


How can I be enough?

by masterroadtripper



Series: Outshine the Morning Sun [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disability, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Brain Damage, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, Epilepsy, Flashbacks, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Injury Recovery, Misunderstandings, Multi, Overdosing, Panic Attacks, Paralysis, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Disability, Psych Wards, Recovery, Seizures, Suicide Attempt, Washingdad, homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2020-08-18 19:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 50
Words: 41,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterroadtripper/pseuds/masterroadtripper
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has fought against all odds to simply be able to walk again.  The doctors said he may never be able to regain full use of his legs, but guess what?  He did.Now he's fighting to hold his tongue to simply have a roof to live under until he can age out of the foster system.  When he is sent to live with the Washington's, a foster home specializing in children with disabilities, he must try extra hard to make it work.





	1. The move

“Where’s Alexander?” he could hear the familiar voice of his case worker asking, accompanied by the sound of the front door to the group home being slammed shut at six o’clock that morning. Simply hearing the voice of Mr. Samuel made Alex want to forcefully smash his head against a wall. Not that that would help, probably just get him put on some kind of watch again, if he wasn’t on one still.

Some muffled voices followed by thundering footsteps through the house alerted him that Mr. Samuel was looking for him. He briefly considered hiding under the bunk bed he was sitting on or under a pile of blankets, but that wouldn’t get him very far. Besides, what placement could be worse than being stuck in a group home for any longer? And he was sure it was a new placement. Mr. Samuel never came to check in unless it was time to move houses. Again.

“Time to go Alexander,” Mr. Samuel said, his head sticking around the corner to the first floor bunkroom.

"Its Alex," he muttered, but Mr. Samuel said nothing in reply, so Alex assumed that correcting the man, yet again, on the fact that he preferred Alex over Alexander was just going to get ignored. Again. He added a chilled frown in the other man's direction for good measure.

“Go where?” Alex decided to snap back at Mr. Samuel after a few seconds of silence. And at a decibel level high enough he was sure Mr. Samuel could hear this time. He knew he could push his luck more with Mr. Samuel than he could with almost anyone else, and sometimes he liked to see how far he could go.

“Watch your mouth Alexander,” Mr. Samuel said, his full name bouncing around his head like a runaway rubber ball. He hated that the man insisted on always saying his full name. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he would quickly lose focus at any given moment.

Mr. Samuel then pulled out a black garbage bag from his pocket and shook it out before handing it over to Alex. If he didn’t know what was going to happen before, now he was certain. Yet another family, desperate for government funding, was ‘willing’ to take in a kid with special needs and he was going to be sent there for a month, maybe two before getting sent back to another group home when they realized they really couldn’t handle him.

“We’re heading to Virginia,” the drone of Mr. Samuels’ voice said over Alex’s thoughts as he started packing up his limited belongings into his ratty backpack and black garbage bag. Nothing more depressing than seeing your entire life being stuffed into a garbage bag.

“I had to pull a lot of strings to get you placed so far out of state, please don’t push your luck with this family,” Mr. Samuel said, pulling Alex’s tattered blue blanket from the bed and started to fold it. He didn’t like anyone touching his stuff, but couldn’t deny the fact that he wouldn’t have folded it himself. It would fit in his garbage bag with all of his notebooks better anyways.

“Pull strings my ass,” Alex muttered under his breath and considered it lucky that Mr. Samuel didn't seem to have heard it. And yeah, he’d heard that statement before. Really, who would want to have to put up with a kid with a significant physical disability combined with all the mental health issues that kept surfacing? The answer is no one. They always told the state that they could handle it. They never could. Who would want to deal with night terrors, various self destructive tendencies, terrible eyesight and the fact that neither of his legs could work without being encased in terribly bulky metal braces that made walking a chore?


	2. The journey

It would have been a long car ride for anyone whose legs weren’t trapped in mini personal jails. For Alex, it was a hellish six hours and twenty-six minutes. His braces dug into his skin through his ratty jeans, causing the joints and bones to ache. He was sure his left leg was so cramped he wasn’t sure if it had gone away or was just completely numb. Mr. Samuel didn’t stop nearly as often as Alex would have liked, but he also never requested a break. He deserved the pain.

Eventually, they turned from the I-81 onto US-60 and followed a ridiculously wooded highway towards...wherever they were going. Alex knew they were getting close because Mr. Samuel launched into his rant about behaviour.

“Try to make this placement last until you at least finish high school Alexander. We’ve almost exhausted the pool of accessible homes in your foster district. This family has taken in three other rough placements. Please try to make it work.”

Thankfully Samuel shut up just in time to watch as they entered a town. “Lexington VA” the sign read. Jackson University was in this town, Alex seemed to remember from some pamphlet he had found on the floor at his old school after a university fair. And yet, they seemed to just keep driving down the main street, never turning down any of the lanes or side streets. He kept silent though, knowing better than to question Mr. Samuel. Then, they drove out of Lexington and Alex felt his mood sour even more. He really wanted to live in a University town. So many libraries and places to meet intelligent people.

Not even ten minutes later, through even more trees, they turned down a much smaller, one lane, paved road. Now Alex, against his own conscious, was moderately intrigued as to what kind of wild-looking house and rich-ass family he would be placed with. No one lived in this area without money, power, or both. And what family in a position of power would be a part of the state foster system? Unless they were looking for publicity. Maybe he was just gonna be a fourth part of their little stunt.

They rounded one last bend before Alex could finally see the house.

And what a hell of a house it was too. It was a sprawling white wood bungalow which was also visually symmetrical from the front, a fact Alex noted with a smile. He suddenly wondered if the family had built the house or had just bought it. If they had built it, he thought they had a good eye. But as they got closer, he could see a wrought iron fence surrounding the house and Alex couldn’t help but wonder if it was to keep people in or out.

The gate to the fence was nothing special though, the only indication that it was a gate at all was the fact that the road led straight up to it. Mr. Samuel unlocked the drivers side door, yet didn’t disengage the child locks to the back door which Alex was sitting next to. He figured it was probably a good idea on Mr. Samuels’ part. The case worker then unlocked the fence gate and pressed a button so it would slide open. Once the car was inside, he repeated the action and they continued up to the plantation-era mansion. It just kept getting bigger and bigger.

The place was fucking huge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
Lexington VA actually has Washington and Lee University, but I didn't want to have to explain that, so its now Jackson University. Problem solved :)


	3. The house

At least Mr. Samuel had the decency to open the door for Alex and grab his ugly grey crutches from the trunk of the car. After shouldering his backpack and slipping his wrists through the loops of the crutches that had just been handed to him, they started the march towards the door.

The house wasn’t sitting exactly on ground level, he noticed, but the way that they had landscaped the front of the house, it created a very drawn-out ramp to the front door. It seemed like the whole house was sloped that way, creating a surprisingly accessible house. Alex thanked his lucky stars that this house seemed to have nothing in the way of stairs.

At the front door, the nerves that had been building since the morning overwhelmed Alex’s curiosity and he hung back, waiting for Mr. Samuel to ring the doorbell. Once he did, not three seconds later the door swung open revealing an older lady with a pair of reading glasses balanced on her forehead. She was wearing an apron streaked with flour and her dark brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

“Samuel!” she greeted him, her eyes brightening as she smiled, “it is so lovely to see you again!”

“Likewise Martha, though I always wish it was on better terms,” Mr. Samuel said and Alex wondered if he was being sincere or if he was just pretending to be nice around the lady. Either way, the difference was startling.

“Anyways,” Mr. Samuel said, “this is Alexander.”

“Martha Washington, nice to meet you young man. Lets go inside, I have a batch of cookies in the oven calling your name,” Ms. Washington said, motioning to come through the door. Somehow, the door didn’t have a lip of any kind on it, as if the door itself sat flush with the floor. But he didn’t put too much thought into it, simply grateful that he wouldn’t have to try to climb anything after that car ride.

“How about this Alexander,” Ms. Washington said, “You get your shoes off, no shoes in the house please, you too Samuel, and I’ll check the cookies. Then we can go drop your stuff off in your room?” Too tired and nervous to even try to say anything, Alex just stared at his feet and nodded.

“You can use the chair beside the closet,” Ms. Washington added before walking off in the direction of the kitchen, Mr. Samuel following behind her. Probably to talk about him, Alex figured. Whatever. What could he possibly tell her that wasn’t already in his file?

He sat on the chair gingerly, not wanting to scratch the wood coloured paint covering the rickety looking piece of furniture. It took an embarrassingly long amount of time to get his old ratty sneakers off, but once he did, it felt good to wiggle his toes around in freedom. He was glad that this was a “no shoes” type of house. After the accident, Alex hated wearing shoes and preferred to have his toes free.

Standing with the help of the chair and a crutch, he got his arms situated in their loops again before heading to the kitchen. Ms. Washington - though he didn’t know if she wanted him to call her that or not - and Mr. Samuel were standing at the counter. They probably had heard him coming and were both watching the door as he came through. He vaguely noticed that the door frame was considerably wider than the normal kind, but decided not to dwell on the fact that this house was a wonder of accessible architecture.

“Want to go see your room now? Will be good to get settled before the boys get home from school,” Ms. Washington said, not waiting for a response before walking out a different side of the kitchen down a hall.


	4. A room

When Martha flicked a switch to a set of lights, Alex could see that the hardwood floor continued down the entire length of the hallway. The walls were painted a soft yellow and the light illuminated six doors, three on each side and each had a stenciled word in various shades of paint indicating the owner of the door. There was only one un-labeled door, on the right side at the very beginning of the hall and Ms. Washington pushed it open.

The room was painted plain white and the bed spread, blankets and curtains were navy blue. What really caught Alex’s eye was the desk adjacent to the bed. A desk, perfect for colonizing with his notebooks and scribbled thoughts.

“Do you like it?” Ms. Washington said, catching onto the fact that Alex had yet to move anywhere closer to the room. “We can always get new sheets if you want.”

“No thank you ma’am,” Alex replied, the first words he had spoken at the house. He didn’t need to inconvenience them anymore than they already were.

“Martha, please,” Ms. Washington - Martha - said, before turning to point to the other doors, “At the end of the hall is George and I’s room, beside is Laf’s and that's the washroom. On the other side is John’s, Herc’s and then yours. You’ll get to meet Laf and John around four, but Herc has basketball practice after school, so he’ll be home later. My husband, George, will be home with Herc whenever he picks him up.”

“Uh...thank you Martha,” Alex said, walking into the room and taking off his backpack. He had his back to the door and couldn’t see Martha’s sad look at the tattered bag. Mr. Samuel placed the garbage bag just inside the door.

“I should be going, long drive back to the city,” Mr. Samuel said before adding, “You have my number if you need anything Alex.”

And then he was gone and the house was empty except for Martha and Alex.

“Do you need anything from me? Any help of any kind?” Martha asked. Alex frowned and stared down at his bag. His legs ached and he really wanted to take off the braces and lay down for a little. But the last thing that he wanted was Martha’s help. He didn’t want her help, he didn’t want her pity. After the accident, Alex had prided himself on being as self-reliant as he could. The doctors said he would likely need help dressing and showering, standing and sitting for years. It had been two years and Alex could do everything they said he wouldn’t be able to do. He didn’t need Martha’s help.

“No thank you, I’m okay,” Alex said, not taking his eyes off of his backpack, not wanting to meet the eyes of Martha’s, knowing he’d only see pity and sadness. He didn’t want to see either of those, so he didn’t look.

“Alright, well, when you’re done, there’s cookies in the kitchen,” Martha said and Alex could see her slipper-covered feet walking out of the room. Once he was sure she was gone, Alex gently lowered himself down onto the bed and could feel the lack of comfort that the braces caused.

Shoving his stuff into the closet without unpacking it, Alex grabbed his crutches and headed to the kitchen. He could smell the wonderful scent of fresh baked cookies, something he hadn’t experienced in years. Made him think of home and wonder how often Martha baked the other boys cookies. Made him long for home and his own mother. But she was dead. He had no home. So why did he keep dwelling on it? Not like he could change the past or bring his mother back, so he had to think about the future. That was all he had now.

“May I have a cookie ma’am?” Alex said as he slowly made his way into the kitchen, being extra-specially careful on the wood floor that was everywhere. Martha was still in the kitchen, without her apron this time, but still cooking. It looked like she was preparing some dish with cheese in it, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Sure Alexander, but please, call me Martha,” Martha said, sliding the tray across the counter to him.

“Thank you Martha,” Alex said reaching out for a cookie. He ate a bite in silence before he opened his mouth again, “Martha?”

“Yes?” Martha said, turning around to face him, still stirring the pot on the stove.

“Could you call me Alex?” He asked softly, turning his face back towards the table, his thick glasses sliding down his nose on the sheen of fear-sweat.

“Of course Alex,” Martha replied, showing off her pearly whites in a massive grin before adding, “and you better grab a couple more cookies, John and Laf will be home anytime and those cookies will be gone before you know it.”


	5. The boys

Seconds later, there was the sound of crackling gravel on the road outside and it seemed to alert Martha to something.

“The boys are home,” Martha said with a smile and Alex felt his heart fall through his ribcage. What if these boys didn’t like him? Were they handicapped too? What if something he did triggered one of them? He didn’t know what their issues are, he didn’t know what to avoid. What if they weren’t handicapped? Then he’d just be a one man freak show again.

Then the door banged open so hard that Alex thought it may have been knocked loose off its hinges followed by a french-accented voice calling, “Mom, we’re home!”

“In the kitchen boys,” Martha replied as one boy skidded around the corner followed by a second, smaller boy.

The first boy had darker, more medium brown skin with his kinked brown hair piled up into a poof on the top of his head. Alex imagined that if he took it out of the poof it would form a lions mane, of sorts, around his head. He also wore a black band around his head, though, it didn’t look like a headband, nor did it look like it was meant to serve that purpose. It looked padded, as if it was meant to protect the important parts of his head if he was to fall.

The second boy had almost the same skin tone as Alex, though perhaps a little lighter. His cheeks were speckled with freckles and his long hair was tied by an elastic at the back of his neck. He wore darkened sunglasses and a pair of headphones over his head. Alex wondered if they were playing music or if they were noise cancelling. Regardless, the smaller boy seemed to know exactly where everything was, and if he was blind, he must have had an excellent memory.

But they both seemed to have completely stopped in their tracks, neither coming any further into the kitchen. Alex looked up from his second cookie and forced a smile.

“Boys, this is Alex,” Martha said, her hands moving as she spoke. Sign language. Alex picked up a few of the signs, but not all of them. Alex gave them a small wave.

"Alex, this is Laf and John,” Martha added. So, the boy with the poof of hair was Laf and the boy with the glasses was John. Cool. They seemed kinda neat, Alex supposed.

“Nice to meet you,” John said, his voice nasal, muffled and slurred. So he was the deaf one. Maybe. Or just hard of hearing.

"Mom, may we watch a movie?" The other boy, Laf, asked and signed, not skipping a beat.

"I suppose so, you'll have all of spring break to do homework anyways," Martha said, her hands following along. So, that was how it worked in this house. He wasn't sure if John could lip read, so Alex figured he better start trying to dig up some of his old ASL knowledge.

And spring break, well, Alex forgot that it was almost that time again. He hadn't been enrolled in a school since before Christmas break, due to his almost constant movement between group homes and foster placements. It was either going to be beautiful blessing or a curse to be stuck with the Washington family everyday for a week. It would be the deal breaker that could quite easily send him back to Mr. Samuel in New York.

"Put your bags away please, then you can start the movie. George will be home with Herc around 6:30," Martha added, Laf already running towards his room.

Alex noticed John look in his general direction before saying something to Martha in only sign language. It was much too fast for Alex to catch any of, and he had a feeling that John didn't want him to know what they were saying anyways.

They went back and forth maybe four times before John turned, shouldered his bag and slowly walked out of the room.

"Is John deaf?" Alex blurted out, before feeling instantly foolish. He knew he shouldn't go behind the other boys back like this, but he wanted to know.

"Mostly," Martha replied, "He can only hear the really high or really low frequencies, which are useless and headache inducing, thus the noise cancelling headphones. But don't worry, John can lip read. Please don't not talk to him because of that."

"I'm sorry for asking you," Alex said, "I know it's rude." Fascinating information, but rude nonetheless.

Judging by John’s ability to speak and the fact that he could still hear some things told Alex he likely wasn’t born deaf and either lost his hearing gradually or suddenly. Didn’t explain the glasses, but explained some of it."I'm glad you asked," Martha said, smiling again, "why don't you go run along and get started on that movie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, here's Laf and John!  
Next up, Herc


	6. The movie

It appeared that John and Laf had decided on what to watch already, perhaps even before they had gotten in the door, causing Alex to feel irrationally left out. He shook that thought out of his head in favour of thinking of another way to win the favour of the other two. That was one of the most important things he had learned from his time in the system. Other kids in the house could either be your best friends or worst enemies and you had to get on one side or the other fast. Because other kids were usually much easier to get on your side than adults.

“We got Big Hero 6 in the machine Alex, you ever watched it?” Laf asked, flopping himself backwards onto the chaise part of the couch. Alex noticed that he didn’t let his head contact the cushion, as if he was doing anything to protect that head of his.

"No, is it good?" Alex asked. He'd never really gotten an opportunity to watch movies as a kid. In the hospital, he'd caught up some, but then got behind again after beginning his ricochet through foster homes.

"It's the best," Laf replied, seeming to settle in more. John had taken over a spot too, so Alex figured he'd be okay to sit on the opposite side from Laf. He took off his crutches and leaned them against the side of the couch, hoping they wouldn't fall over and out of reach.

John, on the other hand, verbalized nothing at all after Alex walked in, but did say something in ASL to Laf to which he replied, “yeah, yeah, I’ll turn on the subtitles.”

Alex noted that Laf added nothing with his hands, simply pointing the remote he was holding at the screen and clicking it. It made Alex wonder how long John and Laf had been living in the same house, because he didn’t seem as natural at the whole, verbal and physical communication thing as Martha did.

John appeared to say something again, to which the only response he got back was Laf giving him the middle finger. That was one thing that Alex did catch and snickered behind his hand at the obviously brotherly interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes it was short, but call it part 1 of 2. the chapter got long so I split it at the only logical place, which was where this one ends
> 
> also, don't shoot the messenger with the whole ALS thing. This is a (very bad) attempt to describe them and I'm trying to make John communicate in a way that is fair to his character


	7. A nap

Alex was certain that he didn't consciously made the decision to let his eyes slip shut, but suddenly, he felt one hand at his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. His first reaction was to physically fight off the hand, but remembered that wouldn’t get him far and instead just tensed. The hand quickly moved away as Alex opened his eyes. Then he saw nothing but blurred dim light.

His glasses.

They must have fallen off at some point while he was accidentally napping.

Well, now this was an awkward situation, Alex thought to himself as he started pawing at his face, pockets and in the folds of his sweater. If the glasses had fallen onto the floor, he couldn’t get down there to look for them, the range of mobility in his knees still wasn’t good enough. Then he’d have to ask someone to look for him. He was supposed to be able to be independent god dammit.

“Are you okay son?” the body which Alex assumed was connected to the hand from before asked. It wasn’t quite Laf’s voice and definitely not John’s. What was the name of the other kid? Herc? Maybe it was him.

Deciding to own up to his failure to avoid the consequences or someone potentially stepping on and breaking his precious glasses, Alex said, “I can’t find my glasses.”

“What color are they?” the voice said, followed by a blur of movement and the lights in the room slowly raising to full brightness, as if on some kind of dimmer switch. Huh, neat. Now the body of the voice, clad in black and white, was looking at the floor.

“Dark green,” Alex replied, feeling the nerves and edges of anxiety creeping into his subconscious like that one annoying acquaintance at school that just won’t go away.

“Ah, here we go,” the voice said, bending over to pick up the glasses. They were pressed into Alex’s hand. Thank goodness they were in one piece.

“Thick lenses you got there son,” the voice said. Why the hell did he keep calling him son?

“You know, I have reading glasses. Martha always tells me to wear them, but I can never seem to remember to do that,” the voice said before adding, “supper is ready in the kitchen, c’mon.”

“Can’t see nothing without my glasses,” Alex replied, softly, but audibly. He slid his glasses over his nose and was finally able to get his first look at the person who had given him his glasses back.

And holy fuck was that a big man. Not just because Alex was small for his age, no, this was just one big man. He had a similar skin tone as Laf and Martha, if not a tiny bit lighter, but he was bald and he was older. So not Herc. Herc was a kid, Alex assumed. Maybe this was the husband. He was wearing a white dress shirt and a pair of black dress pants. Likely the husband.

Then the bald man reached down to the floor level and picked up Alex’s crutches from where they had fallen. Extending them out to him, Alex took them, looped his arms in and got ready to push himself to standing.

“Need help?” the bald man asked. Alex just barely managed to stifle the glare. This man didn’t know, he was just trying to be helpful.

“No thanks,” Alex grunted out as he used the strong muscles in his abs and arms to hoist himself off the deceptively low couch.

“Looks like you got it covered,” the man said, leading the way out of the movie room and back towards the kitchen. The light was turned off with its same slow motion fade and suddenly it was dark again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter George.  
Hope y'all are enjoying so far!


	8. The first meal

The smells of cooking were heavenly as Alex trailed into the kitchen behind the bald man. He could see six spots at the table, though the head on one side was already occupied by a teenager whose size could rival that of the bald man.

Alex observed the scene for just a second, feeling like an outsider who managed to stumble in on what was obviously a very tight knit family. Well. He...kinda...was.

The boy who he assumed was Herc, stayed put at the table as Alex and the bald man walked in, but smiled. When he smiled, his eyes looked kind.

John was across the kitchen at the microwave, watching with what seemed to be great fascination at the numbers counting down on the display. Laf was helping Martha get a big tray of food from the oven and was likely where all that cheese was going.

Once she stood, having sent Laf on his way to the table with the dish, she asked, “did you have a good nap?”

Alex wasn’t sure if that was a trick question or not, so he said nothing and shrugged. He wasn’t sure if she was genuinely interested in whether or not his nap was good or not, or if she was scolding him for napping in the form of a question. Saying nothing was generally a better course of action than running his mouth, and sadly, running his mouth got him in more trouble than it was worth.

“I see you’ve met my husband George,” Martha continued. Well, he hadn’t met him officially, and the man seemed to have a look on his face that said, “I forgot to introduce myself.”

“And this is our third son Herc,” Martha finished, rounding the table and planting a kiss to the boy’s head. He was wearing a yellow beanie and Alex wondered what his hair looked like underneath. He bet it was similar to Laf’s, with the kinky coils. The boy made no move to come anywhere near Alex, George nor the kitchen which Alex didn’t mind. The less awkward handshakes the better.

“Boys, why don’t you go wash up for supper,” Martha prompted them, which Alex willingly followed. The uncomfortable silence in the kitchen was annoying. Alex had never been placed with such a well-established family unit like this before.

Sure, he’d gotten placed with multiple kids, but he was never the only foster child. Sometimes he was an only child, which wasn’t terrible, just lonely. Sometimes, it wouldn’t even be with two parents, just a single ‘parent’ looking for some extra income in the form of a government cheque.

He wondered what the motivation behind fostering another disabled child into a family such as this one was. They obviously weren’t in it for the extra money, if the size of their house was anything to go by. Because it was huge and in no way inexpensive. Alex had yet to see any evidence of political affiliation, so it likely wasn’t for the publicity. One nagging question at the back of his mind was the obvious university connection. There was extensive Jackson University stuff all over the house. He wondered if either Martha or George worked there, because that would explain all the junk everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, the last of the revolutionary set has entered!
> 
> Hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.


	9. A question

"So Alex, tell us a little about yourself, what do you like to do?” George said at the table. Alex was seated right beside him, Laf on his other side. Suddenly, all pairs of eyes but one - John's - turned in his direction and it was silent. Alex stared at his macaroni and cheese, studying it as if it was incredibly interesting.

How was he supposed to explain that his hobbies include correcting people's incorrect opinions on the internet and boxing. Heck, he couldn’t even box anymore. Sure he liked reading and school work, but that was pretty bland and uninteresting. But the Washingtons were still silent, awaiting his answer. Aside from John, who was not making eye contact with anyone and was seemingly ignoring everything that was happening at the table, they were all looking at his direction.

“I like to read,” Alex found himself blurting out once he realized that he hadn’t said anything in response to their question yet.

Yeah, reading was good, not his favorite, but it was fine. That was how he learned now days. He hadn’t been enrolled in a school for months, so he managed to find free books either through book drives or book sales. Or, in a few cases, what the homes he stayed in had in them. It always surprised Alex what fascinating books middle aged people kept in their homes.

“Well, I’m sure one of these days we can go to the University library and see what they have for you there,” Martha replied from across the table, her hands folded in front of her at her place.

“What kind of books do you like reading Alex?” George asked immediately after swallowing a mouthful of supper. Which, Alex noted, was quite delicious. Not quite as good as the stuff his abuela made back on the island, but pretty okay.

“History books, biographies, old textbooks. Anything I can find,” Alex explained, reaching out towards his plate and stabbing at a bunch of noodles to fill his fork and consequently his mouth.

Alex just wanted to melt into the wall and disappear. Not only was the chair incredibly uncomfortable against his legs and was hurting the skin under the braces, but it was high off the ground causing his legs to hang and hurt even more. He just wanted to go back to his room, take off his braces and go to sleep. It had been a long long day.

Alex watched as John said something to Martha before George answered, “boys, if you’re done, you can be excused. Go figure out who is showering tonight and in what order, yeah? And make sure you show Alex how to work the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Laf said, standing up slowly from the table, “thank you for dinner Mom.”

The boys all repeated a similar sentiment before getting ready to head away. That was when Alex noticed that Herc was in a wheelchair. He hadn’t seen the chair before because Herc had always been sitting at the table. Now the flat house and the extra wide doors started to make sense as he watched the oldest of the three glide from the kitchen.

“Alex, are you okay?” he heard Martha ask. That was when he realized that he had yet to move from the table after they had all been excused.

It was then that he wondered when he would get his meds. Mr. Samuel never gave them to him to take care of, probably didn’t trust him to keep them anymore, so he likely gave them to Martha and George. He always took his meds after supper, on a full stomach, so that they could have time to start working before bed so he could actually sleep. The pain in his destroyed legs and hips kept him up without the meds. Maybe this would be how it worked here. He behaves, he gets his meds. He misbehaves or does something wrong, nothing. It wasn’t like that hadn’t happened before. Now the question was, what had he done wrong at supper?

“Um, yeah,” Alex replied, wincing a little as he quickly stood from the table, “Um...thank you for supper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martha and George aren't bad people, I swear, they just missed an instruction and Alex is assuming the worst  
Also, I'm not going to keep saying that everyone is speaking and using ALS, just assume they are. The only one not doing it is Alex (for now) because he doesn't know it.


	10. The first interaction

Alex followed the boys down the hall towards the living space just before the bedroom hallway, every step painful and jarring. They all seemed to know what they were doing, but Alex was good at following, so that's what he did. The living room, where they had been watching Big Hero 6 earlier, looked quite different with all the lights on. Herc situated himself near the couch and the other two boys sat on the couch, John cross legged on a cushion and Laf reclined on the chaise again. Alex didn’t sit, his legs too sore to even try to sit or bend over.

“So, little Alex, do you want a shower tonight?” Laf asked, his hands cushioned behind his head. Alex frowned at the nickname. Sure he was little, he knew that, everyone told him that. But he really didn’t want one of the other kids he was supposed to be making friends with teasing him. And he really felt like Laf was teasing him. But talking back would get him in trouble. No doubt one of them would tattle if he said something in return.

What unnerved him more was just the sheer size of the other three kids. John wasn’t big, but big enough. Even though he kept his eyes covered, as far as Alex knew, he had complete use of his vision and Alex was down two limbs. Next up was Herc, and while he was wheelchair bound, was a huge kid. Alex made a mental note to simply not get too close to him under any circumstances. Last was Laf and aside from that band around his head - doing whatever it was that it was doing - was of the greatest concern to Alex. He was tall, he was in decent shape, if a little gangly, and he seemed fast. Alex wasn’t totally sure what he was going to do to keep out of Laf’s way, but he would have to come up with something fast.

“No thanks,” Alex said, looking at his feet, both of which were still crooked a little inward.

“Are you sure man? You look like you need a shower or something,” Herc said, spinning his wheelchair a little on the spot. Alex took one step back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to shower, but after the day he had, the last thing he wanted to attempt was standing in a slippery basin without his braces. That was just an accident waiting to happen.

“Okay, well, more shower time for us,” Herc said, “though, Martha will make you shower tomorrow for sure. Just because it's the break doesn’t mean we get to forget showers and stuff.”

“Kay,” Alex muttered, not looking up from his feet. He assumed John said something, because the rest of the conversation continued in silence.

Alex knew this was going to be hard. The other three boys had a bond that he wouldn’t easily be able to join. The best he could hope for would be to wait it out, try not to fight or get sent back to New York and finally age out of the system. How hard would it be to last two years?

* * *

Alex closed the door to the room that had been given to him for the time being. He sighed and locked the door. Finally, some alone time. Settling himself down onto the bed, Alex felt some of the tension seeping out of his bones.

Once he could concentrate a little more without his eyes blurring or his head feeling spinny, he leaned over and started unclipping the brace to his left leg. That was the more damaged leg of his two. All the bones were still remaining and, while kept together with titanium plates, were all his own. That was what caused it to ache so much more than the other side. Yeah, the brace kept the joints stiff enough to walk on and support his weight, but it didn’t help the pain. Unbuckling the latches on the metal contraption, he slid his leg out and bent his knee slightly, followed by rolling his ankle.

Getting started on the other side, Alex rubbed the muscle of his calf once he got the brace unlatched. There was no bone left in his calf. When the hurricane came through and Alex got trapped, the bone in his calf was so damaged that he was sent to New York for experimental surgery. The bone was now entirely replaced with a titanium rod and his knee was metal. It was stiff and didn’t move like a knee should. So he had one knee that was too loose and the other was too stiff, which was why the braces and crutches were necessary.

Once his legs were free, Alex swung them onto his bed and laid down. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight, but he could at least try. If he could hold still enough, maybe the pain would dull and he’d be able to at least get a nap in before the sun came up again. Then, he’d try harder tomorrow and maybe he’d get some pain meds.

Alex wondered if he acted up enough if they’d send him back to New York with Mr. Samuel. But then Mr. Samuel would get mad and he’d get sent back to a shitty group home. There was really no good solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a doctor (I am a lifeguard though) and I have no idea about medical-y hospital-y things (outside of my realm of training). So...bear with me when I describe what has happened to the boys to cause their injuries and the ways that they were fixed. I'm doing my best.


	11. The first night

_The wind kept picking up and that was when the crying started. Alex knew it wasn’t him. Maybe it was his mother and maybe it was his abuela, but then he heard something crash. It was loud, it was horrendously close. He felt the floor shake and suddenly the crying stopped. Then he could feel the rain just pouring down his face. It seemed to continue forever, the rain pelting down, the thunder crackling above his head. Then, he heard something else crash and suddenly the brick walls of the house came down and all Alex could feel was pain. _

_“Alex,” he could hear someone calling. He shook his head, trying to hide in the rubble. Trying to not be found. He didn’t deserve to be found. _

“Alex, wake up,” someone said, and that was when he woke up. Right. He was dreaming. Well, not dreaming. Dreaming implied that he was imagining a reality that had never before existed. This was a nightmare.

“Alex, you’re here with us in Virginia,” a voice - Martha - said.

Wait. Why was she in his room? The door had a lock and Alex was absolutely certain that he had locked his door that evening. Then a hand, not Martha's hand, Alex didn’t think, was on his shoulder. Jerking away, Alex thought he let out a little yelp of some kind and sat up. The hand stayed.

“Calm down Alex, you’re safe,” another voice - George - said.

Maybe that was where the hand on his shoulder came from. Regardless, there were three things Alex really wanted to happen in this moment. For whoever was touching him to stop it, to find his glasses, and for Martha and George to get out of his room. Those were of utmost importance, everything else could wait.

"Don't touch me," Alex hissed, scooting further away, back towards his pillow and the headboard. The hand slowly disappeared and he felt the panic subside a little.

"It was just a nightmare," he heard Martha's voice say, "Its okay now."

"That's not true," Alex muttered. The room was then sent into silence. Aside from his own heavy breathing and the soft tinkling noise of something outside, no one made a sound.

"Can you tell us why that's not true?" Martha asked again after a pregnant pause.

"Cause it's not. I'm fine," Alex said and cursed himself for saying anything. Not only did he talk back but also woke up the whole household at whatever time of the night it was. At this rate, he would either be getting sent back with Mr. Samuel or never getting his meds. He'd cooked his own goose. Again.

“You’re shaking Alex, are you cold?” Martha asked.

“I’m fine,” Alex growled, knowing he was scowling. At least the room was still dark and they couldn’t see his face.

“Where are your glasses?” George’s voice said before hearing a little shuffling in the blurred darkness.

“They were on the desk,” Alex replied reluctantly. Maybe if he told them what they wanted to hear, they’d leave him alone and he could go back to having nightmares. Hopefully silently this time.

“Here,” George said again, pressing cold metal into his hand.

“Thanks,” Alex replied, unfolding the arms and pulling the glasses over his ears. Suddenly, he was able to see that Martha was leaning over the bed on one side and George was on the other side, by the window.

In the light coming from the hallway, Alex could see that there were a set of keys dangling from his doorknob. Well. That's how they got in. Kinda defeated the purpose of a lock.

“Are you gonna go back to bed?” Martha asked softly, not making any move to get closer, but not getting any farther away either.

“Yeah,” Alex lied. In reality, he likely wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. But he wanted them gone. He wanted to be left alone.

“We’re just down the hall if you need us,” Martha said before standing to leave. George said nothing and followed her out of the room.

Suddenly they were gone and Alex got his wish. He was alone.

But he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be at home. He wanted to be warm every month of the year, walk along the beach on his way home from school, watch telenovelas every afternoon with his mother and abuela. He wanted his family back.

Rolling over, ignoring the pain in his legs and hips, Alex mashed his face into the pillow and let out a few sobs.

He wanted to be loved again.


	12. The first morning

Alex never fell asleep again that night and had spent probably close to an hour crying into his pillow before dragging himself out of bed and into the desk chair where he pulled out a notebook and a flashlight.

He just started writing. Whatever came to mind went into that notebook and soon the pain in his wrist from writing blocked out the pain from his legs.

The light of dawn through his open window finally provided him a better source of light and he turned off his flashlight, hoping to conserve its battery as much as he could. Mr. Samuel had given him two new mega-packs of AA batteries earlier that day, or was it yesterday? Regardless, he knew how fast he could burn through forty eight batteries.

Alex continued writing through the bleary vision that his eyes were giving him, trying to concentrate on the soothing words that he was scratching into the paper and nothing else.

Around seven, based on the clock on the desk, he heard someone's door open and then shut, followed by shuffling footsteps through the hall. Alex held his breath, trying to make as little noise as humanly possible. Judging by the noise, he figured that it wasn’t Herc, because his wheelchair wouldn’t have make distinct footsteps. It sounded like a pair of slippers with a roughed up bottom or a pair of extremely rough feet. Either way, it likely wasn’t Martha or John. John didn’t seem like the slipper wearing type. He tried to recall if he had seen either Laf or George wearing slippers yesterday and was unable to remember.

Nevertheless, it meant that someone was awake and meant that Alex maybe should get up and stop pretending to be asleep. But that meant getting into his braces and he just wasn’t physically ready for that. Of course, he could just go brace-less and hope that his left leg didn’t give out on him. That seemed like a risk Alex was willing to take. He needed to get the muscles in his legs to heal up a little before wearing the infernal metal jails again.

Deciding to put his faith in his destroyed limbs, Alex grabbed the crutches, got his arms set up and pushed himself to standing. One movement at a time, he made his way to the door and out into the hall. Once he was in the hall, he could hear the soft pattering movements of whomever was in the kitchen.

Making his way closer, Alex rounded the corner and could see George, in an orange bathrobe, plaid pants and slippers scooping coffee grounds into the coffee machine sitting on the kitchen counter while reading what looked like a newspaper that sat beside the machine.

In this light, George seemed a lot more friendly. It wasn’t like he was ever unfriendly towards Alex or any of the others in the house. But Alex knew just how quickly that could change and how appearances could be deceiving. Though, getting to observe George in a setting where he had no idea that he was being watched, Alex was able to get a better judge of his character. Like, just now, when he spilt coffee grounds onto his newspaper, missing the coffee machine by a mile, he didn’t swear or break something. Just shook his head at himself and started scooping the grounds into his cupped hand and throwing them away into the garbage before shaking off the paper and continuing.

Gathering the courage to make his presence known, Alex took a few more steps into the kitchen. He said nothing but just came slightly closer. George still seemed oblivious to his entrance and proceeded to program the machine to do what he wanted.

“G’morning,” Alex said quietly, his voice cracking a little at the end. George looked up with great speed and smiled once he made eye contact. Alex held eye contact for a few seconds before letting it go by looking at his toes. Eye contact was so hard sometimes.

“Good morning son,” George said, “I was just making coffee. Do you like coffee?”

“Yeah, I do,” Alex replied, nodding. He needed coffee if he was going to keep pulling all-nighters.

Though, same as yesterday, his “son” comment irked Alex. He was not his son. He never would be. He was just some lost cause that they were taking in for the time being. Though, he said nothing about it and just glared at his feet.

“Well, some should be ready in about five minutes,” George said, picking up and throwing his newspaper onto the kitchen table before walking towards the front of the house, “You said you like to read. Does that include the paper?”

“Sure,” Alex said. He’d read anything he could get his hands on. Information was information and without access to the internet, he had to get caught up on current events somehow.

“I have a bunch of older issues hanging out somewhere,” George muttered as he ducked through a doorway, continuing speaking as he disappeared out of sight, “I have yesterday’s here still.”

Then George was back and was handing the thick paper to Alex. Alex took it but then realized that holding it with one hand prevented him from going anywhere. Refusing to ask for help from George, he tucked the paper as high into his armpit as he could and got a hold on his right crutch again.

Though, the second he took his first step, the paper fell onto the ground with a soft splat. Alex felt his blood run cold


	13. The news

“I’m sorry,” Alex said immediately, once he realized that the slap of the falling newspaper was really loud in the still morning air of the house. That would get him scolded for sure.

“Its okay,” George said, picking up the paper before Alex could say anything more or even attempt to pick it up, “I always read the paper at the table while the rest of them get up.”

“Oh...um...okay” Alex said, not really understanding George’s version of sharing.

“Want to read the paper until the coffee is ready?” George asked, taking a seat at the table that he had had at supper the evening prior.

Taking George up on the offer, he sat in the same spot from dinner and ignored how the height of the table dragged on his too-short legs and caused them to ache. Maybe he should have worn his braces. At least then his battered knees wouldn’t have to take all the pressure all on their own. But no. He didn’t make that decision and would just have to live with it.

Alex took his day old paper and opened it on the table. Flipping straight to the politics section, he frowned at the newest headline. It seemed as if the president had decided to open his mouth and let yet another steaming pile of shit fall out of it. He huffed to himself as he continued reading the article. At some point of his way through the piece, he had let his head fall forward into his hands.

“Are you okay there son?” George asked. When Alex looked up, he saw that George was no longer reading his paper and was instead watching him.

“Kinda,” Alex said, before continuing, “I just can’t believe that this over stuffed cheeto is our president.”

“It is a tragedy what happened in El Paso and Dayton, if that is what you’re referring to,” George asked, looking at Alex with a look that he couldn’t quite read. Alex didn’t think it was malicious or had malicious intent, but he’d just never seen it on the face of adult before.

“Like, I kind of understand how he got elected. Based on the demographic of the states, it's like, seventy-two-percent-ish caucasian, right? So, if people voted only based on their race, it makes sense. But I really don’t think that that's all because then it would have been just as likely for Clinton to be elected,” Alex started and when George said nothing and did not interrupt him, Alex just kept going, “but what I don’t understand is how the man is just so incredibly contrary and can lie so easily. Who would want that for a president, regardless of race?"

"For example, Puerto Rico. The only reason I’m here is because of that damn hurricane, but the money that has supposedly gone to them is nowhere to be seen. And it wasn’t like the island was doing that well before Maria anyways. Puerto Rico is a territory, we’re part of the USA and people just don’t get that. Our own president doesn’t seem to understand that.”

Alex then sat in relative silence, panting as his lungs tried to catch up with his rant. But when George said nothing in addition, Alex knew he was done for. He had no idea if George shared his political views and had no time to test the waters before sharing his opinion yet. Sure, he got a more liberal vibe from Martha and Laf for sure - there was no way Laf was 100% straight - but he had yet to get a read off of John, Herc or George.

“You’re quite right,” George said, “I agree. So the next question is, how is it going to get fixed?”

Alex, taking that as his cue to continue, added on, “we have to be loud. Using Puerto Rico as an example again, it was people who managed to make the governor resign. They protested eleven nights straight, but they got what they wanted. I bet, if they put enough pressure on the government here, something similar could happen. Though it would have to be on an equally large scale, which wouldn’t be able to happen if the people aren’t on the side of the cause. To many ‘what-ifs.’”

“You like politics, yeah?” George asked. Alex smiled and nodded, looking back down at the table. He flipped through the paper again.

“I just like knowing what's going on and thinking that all these whackos are running our country. Could you imagine what would happen if, back in the day, they kept the whole “serve for life under good behavior?” Do you think that Obama would still be our president in that case?”

“Perhaps,” George said, the weird look on his face reappearing. He seemed to be deep in thought for a couple seconds before adding, “you know, none of the other boys like talking about politics.”

“Really? I thought at least John would like it. He seems like the politics type of guy,” Alex said, feeling his inhibitions from earlier in the day fading away to the easy conversation with George.

“More so activism,” George added before flipping the page on his newspaper. Just as he made that motion, there was a beeping noise from the coffee machine and the older man stood up to go deal with it.

“Milk or sugar in your coffee?” George asked after filling two mugs.

“Neither, thanks,” Alex replied.

“Makes my job easy,” George added, setting the two cups of black coffee down onto the table. Alex’s mug was a white one with a Jackson University logo on the side of it while George’s was neon green with yellow lettering that said, “Washington - best prof on the planet.”

After reading it, Alex exclaimed, “are you a professor?!”

“Military history mainly, some political science courses when they need me,” George replied and Alex could see in the way that the man talked about his job that he genuinely seemed to like it.

Maybe one day Alex would get to a bunch of courses like that. He could only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that Alex's views on the world and politics are based off his political opinions and the stuff he went through as a kid on the island. As well, I tried to write it as if Alex was your typical 16 year old boy in history class at school being quite easily riled up, which is why his thoughts are a little confusing and disjointed. 
> 
> If these opinions don't align with your own political opinions, I respect that though I don't wish to hear about it. 
> 
> Love all of the comments from everyone! Thanks for talking with me <3


	14. A stack of pancakes

Alex wrapped his cold hands around the warmth of his coffee cup.

That was one thing he missed about the island. The warmth. He was never a big kid, never had enough meat on his bones, and it was easier to pretend that you had enough to eat when you weren’t simultaneously freezing cold all the time.

Though, Alex figured he likely wouldn’t go hungry in this household, judging by the absolutely massive stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. He had had two already and was absolutely stuffed, but he surely had watched John go through four or five already with Laf and Herc nearing eight each. Deciding to instead just sit back and watch the unofficial pancake eating match, Alex warmed his hands on his coffee and tried to not think about home.

“I think that long jump as a sport needs to evolve,” was the next thing Alex heard get said through a mouth of pancakes. It was Herc. He was waving his fork around, obviously trying to prove his point.

“Didn’t that sport have the same world record for, like, fifty years or something?” Laf added, his accent fading in and out with various words. Alex smiled at the ridiculous conversation. He missed talks like this.

John said something that caused Laf to smile, snort and say, “I highly doubt Usain Bolt would do the long jump.” Alex could only imagine what the statement John made was.

“I bet that if someone took a running leap and before they hit the ground, did a flip, they’d get an extra three feet out of it easily,” Herc said, stretching his arms out to the sides, illustrating three feet for everyone.

“Go be that man,” Laf muttered before shovelling what one would amount to easily half a pancake into his mouth.

Once the stack of pancakes ran out, Martha leaned forward on her elbows and announced, “boys, why don’t we get you your meds then you go get changed. Make sure whoever didn’t shower last night showers this morning.”

Laf and John stood from the table, Laf stretching and cracking his back, while Herc backed out and glided away. Alex stayed put, assuming she was referring to her real kids and not him. He surely didn’t deserve his meds. He’d mouthed off, refused help and had a night terror. There was no way any of that was good behavior. So he didn’t move. Though, he did watch as Martha climbed up onto a step stool to be head level with a cabinet Alex had never noticed before. It had a lock on it that was a combination, which Martha spun with ease. None of the other boys watched as she in-putted the combo.

Eventually, she opened the cabinet door above the flume hood of the stove, which was packed to overflowing with pill bottles. Right at the front, he could see a plastic bag with six very familiar bottles inside, along with a sheet of paper. His meds.

Martha took the bag out and said, “George, could you give these to Alex. Samuel has the info for each on the paper inside.”

George, who was hanging back near the coffee machine, stepped forward and took the accepted bag from Martha and turned to head back towards Alex. So, they didn’t think he’d behaved that poorly. Thank goodness. His bones and joints were killing him. All the sitting at the too-tall table didn’t help either, but regardless, twenty-four hours was a long time to go without real pain-relief.

George sat and unzipped the ziplock bag while Martha handed out meds to the other boys. Herc took the red glass of water off the counter top and downed his all in one go. Laf had a glass of orange juice and made over-dramatic shuddering actions accompanied by various muttered words with every individual pill he took. And John, well, that kid just dry-swallowed them. Alex couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He fucking dry-swallowed what was likely close to five pills. Jesus christ John was lucky he wasn’t dead.

“So...the sheet says that in the morning after food you need one of these,” George said, cross referencing the paper before taking a single orange colored pill out and placing it onto the table before doing the same with the rest of the bottles.

“Hmm, anything on the other side?” George muttered, flipping it over before muttering a soft, “shiiiiiiit,” to himself. Standing from the table, leaving Alex wondering what he could have possibly read, George walked over to where Martha was putting everything away again he showed her the paper from Mr. Samuel.

“Boys,” Martha said, addressing the other three, “could you go get changed?”

Once they were out of the room, Alex felt his stomach drop. What on earth had that paper said? What if it was something that made them change their minds about taking him in? The what ifs ran faster than Alex could keep up with.

“Alex, do you usually take a set of medications before going to bed?” Martha asked, sitting down at her original place at the table.

“Yeah,” Alex replied softly, figuring telling the truth was always better than lying, no matter what.

“Why didn’t you tell us we forgot last night?” Martha asked, her voice cracking and the sad look on her face getting sadder-looking.

“Did something wrong,” Alex muttered, focusing his eyes on the table, his voice barely audible.

“Pardon?” George asked and when Alex looked up he could see the anger on his face. Anger at Alex. He was gonna hit him, or worse, kick him out. They were in the middle of nowhere, he would have nowhere to go.

“Alex, have other families not given you your meds if you misbehaved?” Martha asked and Alex knew that they had both heard what he had said.

“Did you think that we were punishing you for something you did yesterday?” Alex just shook his head no, the mixed signals he was getting from the two adults in front of him too dangerous to say anything in response to them. He was waiting for something to happen. Something bad. Something violent. There was no way to avoid it, ultimately, but just sitting and waiting for them to snap was worse.

“Was that why you had a nightmare last night?” George asked.

“Yeah,” Alex thought, but didn’t say anything and didn’t make any head movements this time. Usually, his meds knocked him out and he was able to sleep most of the way through the night.

“Alex, if you tell us nothing we can’t help you,” Martha said, leaning forward across the table and reaching out to touch his arm. Alex leap back, hitting his back against the wall behind him, crashing his legs into the chair and pulling both his arms back towards himself. Both Martha and George looked at each other then back at him, both with concerned looks.

“Go get changed Alex,” George said, his voice growly, low and loud. Yelling but not yelling.

Alex didn’t think about the consequences of his actions and didn’t think about the fact that he had yet to have his morning dosages of medications, he just took the opportunity to get away from George as fast as humanly possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herc, Laf and John's conversation about long jump is from one of the three House MD episodes that Lin-Manuel Miranda was on. Really funny stuff.   
What John would have said was, "I bet Usain Bolt could do the long jump"
> 
> There. Martha and George are good human beings. Told you so :)


	15. The shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of self harm and past abuse

Shuffling quickly down the hall, he saw Laf and John sitting in the room where they had watched the movie last night, and both were now changed.

Laf was wearing a light purple shirt with a v-neckline and skinny jeans that were certainly not meant for the male body. Once again, his hair was tied into its poof at the back of his head and the black padded band was keeping everything intact. John was wearing a white t-shirt with rainbow lettering that read “I’m more confused than a chameleon in a bag of Skittles” with a pair of burgundy khakis. His hair had yet to be tied back and was hanging unbrushed just past his shoulders.

Alex snickered at the saying even though he knew John wouldn’t have heard the noise he made. Then he looked down at the floor when he realized he had been looking at John for longer than would be considered strictly friendly.

He had come out once, at one foster home. Told the parents and other kids over dinner that he was bisexual, had the shit beaten out of him and sent away with Mr. Samuel the next day. He never considered sharing that part of him with anyone else, ever again.

And he knew it was a horrible, terrible idea to have a crush on someone he was supposed to be treating like a brother. That was just fucked up on so many different levels. So like everything, he just shoved the thoughts to the deep dark corners of his brain to think about at a later date. Or while he was trying to sleep. That was always a good time to think about the things he hated the most while he was waiting for the drugs to kick in.

“Herc is in the shower right now,” Laf said, not looking up from his phone, which was against his folded legs on the couch. John was just staring straight ahead, not on his phone, not doing anything. Alex turned and looked to see if anything was on the television, but it was just showing a blank screen. Maybe he had his eyes closed underneath those dark sunglasses. Weird, but okay.

“I assume that means I have to take a turn once he’s done,” Alex said, trying hard and failing a little to keep the snark out of his voice.

“Martha won’t let you get away without showering,” Laf said, finally putting his phone down. Alex didn’t look up from his feet and just shuffled a little, not knowing if he should stay to continue to talk or just leave now and wait until Herc got out of the shower to come back anywhere closer to the television room. Instead, he stayed put.

“You know, Martha and George are really good people,” Laf said, the tone of his voice changing from aloof to almost down to earth sounding. Alex scowled. He couldn’t afford to believe that. He couldn’t let his guard down, not even for a second.

“Its true,” Laf said, “I know you probably don’t trust them but they’ve never done anything to John or Herc.”

“So you know that for a fact?” Alex said, his voice taking on a harder edge to it. He knew that his accent was getting more defined this way, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Anyone who made fun of his accent could go kindly fuck themselves.

“Never seen them be anything other than nice to John and Herc,” Laf countered. Alex knew there was no way he was going to win this debate with Laf when the kid seemed so set in his mind that he knew that Martha and George were good people.

“I’m going to go get ready to shower,” Alex said, not even waiting for a reply and simply continued down the hall to his room.

* * *

Alex opened the closet door and pulled out his garbage bag that he had just shoved in there the day before, looking for his clothes. He had a grand total of two pairs of pants, three shirts, two pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear and a hooded sweatshirt and they were all in the bag in front of him. Well, aside from the sweatpants and shirt he was wearing. Alex dug through, looking for the shirt and jeans from the day before.

He had a system and it worked very well. The sweatpants and smaller shirt were used for sleeping in and the jeans and the other two shirts were used for day to day use. He usually alternated the shirts, three days at a time before bringing them into the shower with him to wash. Though, without using the shower last night, Alex realized that he was unable to wash a pair of underwear or socks and grumbled in frustration at himself for forgetting.

While he was angrily trying to decide which pair of underwear were less dirty, Alex heard a knock on the bedroom door. Throwing the underwear back into the bag, he placed his hand against the wall and used it as support as he moved towards the knocking. The crutches were sometimes just too far away.

“Yeah?” Alex said, opening the door just a crack. It was Herc, hair no longer hidden under the beanie, fully changed and showered, his kinked black hair still a tad damp.

“Your turn in the shower,” Herc said before adding, “I left the shower bench down. Martha left a towel on top of the toilet for you.”

Alex was about to protest that he was fully capable of showering on his own without having to sit on a bench like a cripple, but Herc just glided away before he could say anything.

* * *

The bathroom seemed pretty average, though cleaner than he expected in a household of teenage boys. The only things that were unique was the help wire that ran at about ankle height around the entire base of the washroom, the transfer bars by the toilet and the shower. Upon closer examination, the shower itself seemed highly modified. It was just a stall, though the opaque glass seemed like it could slide completely out of the way. There was a very shallow lip to the basin, likely to keep the water in and not cause any puddling, and the damned shower bench that Herc spoke of.

It took a few tries before Alex figured out how to turn the water on, but eventually he figured it out and started undressing. He turned away from the mirror, uninterested in seeing the scaring across his lower abdomen and legs, the way his stomach caved inwards, the way his ribs poked outwards. He ignored the way his eyes were shaded with dark rings and how his cheeks and jaw were so incredibly defined. He didn’t look down at his wrists, the lines there silvery white reminders of the fact that he was still alive. An unwelcome fact, most days.

But the shower was warm, the bench was surprisingly helpful, though he would deny his use of it to anyone who asked, and being able to wash off the layer of grime on his skin for the first time in days was welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Anyone who made fun of his accent could kindly go fuck themselves" <--- coursesy of my very wise brother


	16. The meds

Alex changed as quickly as he could manage without falling and hitting his head on the tiled floor, pulling on his grey shirt, jeans and brown sweater, the exact same outfit he wore the day before. Grabbing his crutches off the floor of the bathroom, Alex got himself situated before grabbing his stuff and towel before heading back to his room.

Closing the door to his bedroom, Alex dumped his pyjamas back into their bag and sat down on the bed to struggle back into his braces. He wasn’t sure what the day ahead of them entailed, but he had had enough time without the metal contraptions on to appreciate the support they did provide.

Before long, there was a knock on the door, though Alex was stuck at the moment, sitting on his bed with his braces half on.

“Just gimme a second,” Alex grunted, trying to get the clasps on his braces done up as quickly as he possibly could. But, of course, in his rush, he managed to get part of his jeans stuck in a clasp, his sock stuck on a velcro strap and just nearly missed the entrapment of his dick in the thigh part of the right brace.

Which led to even more grumbled cursing and whoever was outside his door opening it regardless and clearing their voice to announce their presence. Alex looked up quickly and stopped doing what he was doing, one leg braced up, the other in a state of disrepair.

It was George. Alex swallowed. The bald man was now dressed, wearing a plain red shirt and jeans. But he was holding a tissue in one cupped hand, a glass of water in the other.

“I’m sorry that I got cross with you,” George said, setting what he was holding down onto Alex’s desk, which was already covered in three different notebooks. From where he was still struggling to get his braces done up, Alex could see that in the tissue, George had his meds. All six little pills were nestled into the paper and were now on his desk, accompanied by a glass of water.

“Pardon?” Alex said, unsure if he had just heard George apologize to him or not. Adults didn’t apologize to kids. That just wasn’t how it worked.

“It's not your fault that you said nothing,” George said, which didn’t particularly answer his question, but at the same time basically did. George was apologizing. Alex wasn’t sure if this action was supposed to help gain his trust, but Alex could see right through it. Gain his trust now, tear him down later.

“Take your meds,” George said, “then Martha and I are going to bring the boys to the mall we would like you to come with us.”

Alex didn’t reply or say anything, just looked down and continued buckling his legs up.

“Good talk,” George muttered to himself before turning around and walking out of the room looking awkward.

Alex closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling once he heard the door click closed. He didn’t believe in God anymore, there was no way that any God would let a series of events that Alex had gone through have happened. There was just no way. But in that moment, Alex wondered if his mother or his abuela were looking down on him from some after life, keeping him as safe as they could.

But, he didn’t want to risk them taking the meds from him, so Alex looked through the six that he was given and took four into the palm of his hand. The other two were his pain meds. Pain was a fact of life that he could deal with during the day so he wrapped the two little white tablets into the tissue before taking the remaining four with a big swig of water. The little tissue pouch was shoved into his pencil kit and tossed back into the garbage bag. Hopefully he'd get some sleep tonight.

He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take all the meds that you are supposed to when you're supposed to. Alex doesn't realize that he will be getting meds every single day, so he's saving the pain ones for the evening. Thats his logic. Flawed, but its what he thinks he has to do.


	17. The mall

One thing that always startled Alex, even after living in the states for two years, was the enormous spralling shopping malls. He just couldn’t comprehend the waste and extreme consumerism that they spawned and fueled.

Sitting in the back row of the handivan that the Washington’s owned, Alex watched in morbid fascination as they pulled into a handicapped parking spot. From the outside, he could already see fifteen name-brand stores and thousands of cars.

“What are you looking at mon ami?” Laf asked, turned around in his seat and now facing Alex with a grin on his face.

“Just how big this place is,” Alex replied. He remembered the Mall of San Juan that they visited on very rare occasions. He remembered walking slowly, hand in hand with his abuela through the mall, looking through the windows at the expensive clothing and jewelry, listening to soft music playing over the speaker system. Alex wondered if the mall was still standing now, after the hurricane and all.

“Have you been to a big mall like this?” Herc asked from his spot beside Alex, in his wheelchair, the chair strapped down to the floor of the van.

“Kinda. Never in New York. Sometimes back at home,” Alex said, his sentences choppy as he tried to take in the building in front of him.

They had parked outside a Target, and as George put the van into park, Alex started unbuckling his seatbelt after watching the other boys do the same. John and Laf climbed out the side doors while George did the ramp for the back of the van and got Herc free. Once Alex was out, all the doors were closed and locked, they headed towards the mall.

“So,” Martha begun, pulling out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket, “All of you boys need a haircut, you look shaggy.”

“But Mom,” Laf started to complain, his shoulders flopping forward dramatically and a pout forming on his face.

“No ‘but mom’s’ from you Gilbert Lafayette Washington, all of you need haircuts,” Martha replied as they marched through a mall entrance. Alex smiled. Lafayette. Such a perfect name for the bubbly and vibrant teen.

“Even you Alex, your hair at least needs a trim,” Martha said and Alex didn’t realize that the opportunity was getting extended towards him as well. He hadn’t had a haircut in close to three years and while he did brush it from time to time and keep it tied up with an elastic band the rest of the time, it was horrible and uncomfortable.

“Gonna cut it all off,” Alex muttered, focusing on putting one aching foot in front of the other.

“Good thing you came with us today then,” Martha said before turning back to her list and continuing, “Laf needs new shoes, those are much too small. John needs new glasses. Herc needs new basketball gloves. And Alex needs clothes, shoes and toiletries.”

Alex was about to protest before he heard George say quietly from beside him, “don’t protest it, we did this for all the boys after they came to live with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little short - I'm getting ready to start university on tuesday, so I haven't had much time to work on this.


	18. A haircut

He had never actually been to a place that was specifically meant for cutting hair before. Back on the island, his mom would just sit him down on the back patio with a pair of scissors and cut it all off again once every three months. He had also never really let it get this long before.

Laf and Herc went first leaving John, George and Martha sitting in the waiting area. Alex wondered when the last time the boys had had haircuts. Herc’s wasn’t particularly long, though he did keep it under a hat all the time anyways it seemed. John and Laf’s hair was long, but not ratty like Alex’s.

John was sitting in silence again, staring straight in front of him at the wall while George and Martha were on their phones. Alex was fiddling with the top clip of his right brace, trying to keep his mind off all the intrusive thoughts at bay. He knew that the intrusive thoughts his brain kept throwing at him were called intrusive for a reason. _Drink the barbicide. Steal the razor. Kick the wall_. Not helpful thoughts by any means. Stuff he knew he shouldn’t act on.

As he clicked the clasp on and off, Alex looked around the shop before his eyes landed on Laf. He noticed that the boy wasn’t wearing his black headband and had his hair soaked down and pinned up to be trimmed. It was then that Alex could see what his poof of hair and black band normally hid. A massive crisscrossed network of scarring at the back of his head where it seemed that hair had refused to grow back. But with the ponytail and the black band, it wasn’t visible. Alex huffed out a breath through his nose and looked away, knowing Laf obviously kept that part of him hidden for a reason. He knew enough about nosy questions and decided that Laf would likely share that piece of info when he was ready.

Instead, his head did a full 180 degree turn and he looked at John. He wondered what John was thinking and why he spent so much time staring into space. Alex watched the boy with fascination. His hair, while not black, was a beautiful shade of chocolate brown with thick ringlets making it look puffy and soft. Alex wondered what color John’s eyes were, under those dark sunglasses. Freckles were gracefully splashed across his cheeks, nose and neck, disappearing into his shirt. And his arms, they were covered in freckles too, Alex noticed. _I wonder if his abs are covered in freckles too_ Alex’s brain said and he had to shake his head to clear the image before his body responded accordingly.

Thankfully, Alex was saved from humiliation by Herc’s haircut finishing first. The lady that had been dealing with him held the wheelchair steady as the very muscled boy transferred himself from the hair cutting chair to the wheelchair. Herc thanked her and made his way towards the waiting room.

Snapping his fingers in front of John’s face, Herc asked, “who wants to go next?”

“Alex can,” John said, his voice nasally like it had been yesterday before turning to Martha and silently asking her something. Martha frowned and their conversation continued as Alex pushed himself to standing and walked towards the lady that had dealt with Herc.

* * *

“What would you like me to do to your hair Alex?” the lady - Abigail, according to her name tag - asked.

“Can you cut all of it off?” Alex asked quietly. He wanted it short again. It was so knotted and ugly right now, he just wanted it all gone. Besides, this could quite possibly be the last haircut he would get for years, may as well make the best of it.

“Perhaps I cut it down to two inches all around and then we just keep cutting it a little shorter until it is good for you?” Abigail suggested and Alex nodded in agreeance.

Soon, the chunks of dark brown hair started falling from his head and piling on the floor. Alex always found it incredible just how much hair he had that could be cut. Alex smirked at all the hair falling to the ground and dared to wonder if this house would be his chance at a normal childhood. He surely hadn’t had one since the hurricane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll likely have to cut this down to one chapter per week now, sadly, as school is starting tomorrow and I won't have as much time to work on any writing. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos thus far - I really appreciate it!


	19. The clothes

Once their hair had all been cut - close to only a half of an inch of Alex’s hair remained - Martha and George started to lead the boys towards the areas of the mall for clothing.

“Where would you like to start looking for clothes Alex?” Martha asked, turning towards him as they kept walking. Alex just looked at her, trying to keep his confusion off his face. He was getting new clothes? Ones that weren’t from Goodwill? He didn’t know what kind store he wanted to get clothes from. What stores did teenagers get clothes from? Alex had no idea.

Likely seeing his confused look, Laf suggested, “Why don’t we look at Old Navy? That place is pretty good.”

“Sounds like a plan,” George replied, “you game Alex?”

“You know, I really don’t need anything,” Alex said quietly, looking down at his feet as they shuffled through the mall. He already felt bad at not being able to go very fast, obviously a little slower than the rest of the Washington’s were used to. Each step was jarring and without his pain meds, he went a little slower, a little smoother to cushion his feet better. Didn’t really help that much, but it was worth a try.

“Alex, how many pairs of clothes do you have right now?” Martha asked, her feet stopping in her tracks and looking at Alex like she could see right through him. None of the other boys said anything, just stopped moving.

“My sweater, three shirts, two pants, two underwears, four socks and a pair of shoes,” Alex explained, “which is more than enough. I don’t need anything more, really.”

“Like hell you don’t,” George grumbled before turning about ninety degrees to where he was previously standing and proceeded to look at the roof and take a few deep breaths.

“Alex, that is nowhere near enough pairs of clothes. Besides, its almost summer time, your going to need some shorts and cooler shoes too,” Martha said before taking George’s hand and slowly beginning to walk. The boys started walking again and Alex followed, figuring she wasn’t going to take anymore arguing.

“It gets warm here in the summer,” John said, the second thing Alex had heard him say all day, turning his head to look at him. Or, at least Alex thought that John was looking at him. He couldn’t say for sure.

“It really does. Makes the pool feel really nice,” Herc added over his shoulder.

“Do you like to swim little Alex?” Laf asked, making his feet do a full 180 degree spin so he was walking backwards and now face to face with Alex and John.

“Haven’t swam since…-” Alex said, cutting himself off before he accidentally said, “the hurricane.” That just wasn’t something that they needed to know about. Besides, they probably knew from his file. That infernal thing included every little annoying detail of everything anyways.

“Well. George said that it's almost warm enough out to start using the pool, so if you want to join us when the time comes, you’re welcome to,” Herc said.

* * *

In total, he ended up with two packages of underwear and socks, four new shirts, two more pairs of pants, a jacket, a new sweater and a new pair of shoes. It wasn’t much but it easily doubled what he already had with him.

Though, what really surprised him was when they bought him a duffel bag and a new backpack, along with a new notebook, a package of pens and another package of batteries. It was something they certainly did not have to buy for him, and yet they did. Alex felt his heart swelling with some feeling he couldn’t put his finger on. He felt himself subconsciously feel more comfortable with the Washingtons’ than any other home prior to this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First week of university done! Managed to get this written today. I'm in a very writing/reading intense major, so I really have very little time to do anything else, though I'll try to do at least one update a week


	20. The food court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW(s):  
-seizure  
-suicide  
-overdose

It was arleady past lunch time before the Washington’s and Alex had finished getting everything they needed . Suggesting a food court lunch before driving the forty five minutes back to the house, Laf chattered the entire way about how good the Chinese food from this one place was. Alex smiled and listened as the bubbly french teen explained how the consistency of noodles made the biggest difference to any dish.

“I believe we all know what Laf is having for lunch,” George said as they entered the food court, “what do you boys want?”

“Subway,” Herc said without hesitation as John looked around the food court, seeming to be weighing his options.

“Pizza,” John signed. That was one of the signs Alex remembered from one of the group homes that he stayed at. There was a kid at that home that was deaf and had taught it to Alex one night when neither of them could sleep. It was the sign for the letter P followed by drawing a Z in the air.

“I’ll have pizza too,” Alex added on and wished he could have captured the image of the faces of the Washington’s as they turned to face him, realizing that he understood what John had said.

“Do you know sign language?” Laf asked, cocking his head to the side and planting his hands on his hips.

“Some. Just random words,” Alex replied while Laf simply signed what Alex assumed was what he had just said.

That was when John laughed. The first time Alex had heard him laugh. And the sound was beautiful. It gave Alex a slight in-put to how John’s voice must have sounded before he had had his hearing taken from him. It seemed as if it was the one noise that he made without thinking about and over-analyzing beforehand. And it was so uniquely John that Alex couldn’t help but smile.

* * *

They were sitting at a table in the food court, Alex with his slice of Hawaiian pizza in front of him and not really engaging in the conversation with the Washington’s. Instead, he was looking at his table mates. George and Martha were sharing a plate of poutine, not really saying very much, but speaking when one of the other boys said something specifically towards them.

Herc, John and Laf were busy discussing something from school. Something about one of their classmates. Sounded like one of their asshole classmates had been spouting some unfavorable opinion on something just before the break. It sounded like it had made Laf rather angry about it. In fact, whatever this classmate had done or said just the day before was causing Laf great stress as he kept getting more and more agitated than usual as the boys continued speaking.

Alex was watching, but not contributing as he saw Laf suddenly go very quiet. No one else seemed to notice that the most talkative kid at the table suddenly shut up.

Then his eyes rolled back in his head. That was when Martha and George lept from their seats and took charge of whatever was happening to Laf.

He had seen a seizure once before in his life, though Alex could barely remember it. It had been his cousin Peter, just before he died. The cousin had taken all of abuela's pills that he found in their house, ingested what he could, though instead of passing out and never waking up, suffered a seizure before he went unconscious. Alex remembered hearing a loud thud that came from the upstairs of the house and upon going to check on what it was, found his cousin, mostly dead, foaming at the mouth and so incredibly pale.

Alex tried to push the image out of his head, the image of Peter, slowly dying in a puddle of his own drool. The thoughts of guilt afterwards, the fact that no one had called 911 until Peter had been dead for several minutes.

So, yes, Laf was having a seizure, that was the only part of which Alex was certain of. Also simultaneously explaining the band on his head - in case he was to fall. Don’t want to hurt your head.

They laid him on the floor and moved the chairs out of the way, his muscles all contracting at what seemed like random. People surrounded then, John rushing off to who knows where and Herc ensuring the onlookers that his brother was fine and that no, no one needed to call an ambulance. Though, as soon as it started, Laf start coming down from the incident by increments.

Finally, all the shakes completely stopped and he pushed himself to sitting.

“Gilbert, do you remember where we are?” Martha asked, gently cradling Laf’s head.

“The mall...right?” Laf muttered. Alex just stood still and watched in shock.

Trying to stay in the moment. Concern for Laf had to trump his memories of Brian. Laf was his family now, as much as Alex hated to admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Good to see you again! 
> 
> For the sake of this, I'm saying that Alex's cousin (named Brian) died of an OD, not by hanging himself (like it is in the show). As well, I'm altering the timeline slightly to say that Brian, James Jr, the mother, the abuela and Alex all lived together on the island. Brian committed suicide prior to the hurricane, the mother and abuela died during the hurricane and James Jr went missing (presumed dead). The only reason I'm doing this is to fit into the story I'm trying to tell a little easier. As well, I'm gonna say that Alex was from Puerto Rico (not Nevis/St. Kitts) so that he could have been injured during Hurricane Maria.  
-as well, addressing the name of Brian as the cousin, I could not find the name of said cousin on the internet, though I did find this super cool website (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamilton_family) if anyone else wants to look at i
> 
> I don't know if any other people find it very difficult to get motivated to write after not doing it for a while. But hey, heres a page-ish of content that I managed to get together before getting back to the grind tomorrow.
> 
> \--EDIT--  
shout out to Trekkiehood for telling me the real name of the cousin!!!  
(its Peter)


	21. The injury

They loaded back into the van, Laf super exhausted from close to four minutes worth of seizing. Once George got Herc’s chair strapped down, he turned on the van, and they started their drive back to the house. Everyone was eerily quiet.

“I’m sorry for ruining the day,” Laf said from his seat. And with such a simple statement, Alex wondered for the first time exactly how old Laf was. He sounded so young, though was so tall and gangly it was deceiving.

“You didn’t ruin the day Laf,” Martha cut in quickly while the other boys hummed in agreement.

“Yeah yeah yeah, it's beyond my control,” Laf grumbled, crossing his arms and slumping in his seat.

“That's true Laf,” Herc said, leaning forward in his chair and gently massaged Laf’s shoulders from over the car seat. It was such a brotherly display of affection and Alex wondered if he’d end up staying with this family to break into the circle like that.

“If I’d listened to Maman and Papa the first time, I wouldn’t be like this,” Laf muttered. Alex had the sneaking suspicion that Laf wasn’t referring to Martha and George, and instead, his birth parents.

“The protests weren’t your fault honey,” Martha said turning around so that she was completely backwards in her seat, “you were only seven years old. You didn’t know any different.”

So. The fact that Laf had seizures and that massive scar on the back of his head was likely from these “protests.” Assuming that Laf was fifteen or sixteen, eight years ago Laf would have been seven or eight. Also, if Alex assumed that Laf was from France, due to his obvious French accent, it likely would line up with the incredibly violent protests against the upper-class in Paris. Perhaps that was what Martha was speaking about.

“Doesn’t change the fact that Maman and Papa are dead and my head is royally fucked up,” Laf said angrily, not quite yelling, but loud enough that one may consider it yelling.

“But the point is is that it isn’t your fault and that having a seizure today wasn’t your fault either,” George said from the driver's seat, never once taking his eyes off the road, voice slow and steady.

“My car accident, that was my fault, but you getting attacked as a seven-year-old, nowhere near your fault,” Herc said, which seemed to put an end to the conversation.

* * *

The rest of the car ride had been completed in silence. Sure George and Martha tried to make small talk to engage the boys, but as usual, John wasn’t paying attention and was just staring out the window. Laf spent the first little while after their argument muttering to himself and fiddling with his headband before settling down and doing something on his phone. Herc had pulled a puzzle book out of seemingly nowhere and was working on a crossword.

Early in life, before his father left, Alex had gone through a few pairs of glasses and instead of fixing them, he would be able to get a second pair. He had found that if he took the lenses from an old pair and held them a certain distance away from his face, it acted as a magnifying glass. It worked better with two pairs of lenses, but after his father left, he realized that pulling his glasses away from his face also magnified what he could see.

Pulling his glasses away from his face, Alex observed as Herc filled in an answer on the paper. And Herc had so many wrong answers. For what it was worth, he still managed to make all the butchered answers fit, so Alex gave him kudos for that. He still snickered a little at Herc’s answer for “the noise snakes make,” being four s’s shoved into the boxes.

“You okay Alex?” Herc asked quietly, leaning over from his seat into Alex’s personal space.

“You have a bunch of wrong answers,” Alex whispered.

“How many are wrong, do you think?” Herc whispered back, obviously being careful to not disturb Laf from where he was still fuming in his seat.

“A bunch,” Alex said, sliding his glasses onto his nose and turning to look forward again.

“Not gonna tell me and just lemme guess?” Herc whispered and scoffed afterwards. Alex instead just kept looking around the van.

That was when he noticed the red fabric bands on all the seatbelts. Well, not all of them. George and Martha had no red bands and neither did Alex. But using his glasses, Alex managed to “zoom in” on John’s red band.

“I’m deaf and sensory processing disorder,” it said. Huh. It was like a medical alert band, but for the van. Fascinating.

Leaning over to Herc again, Alex whispered, “are the red bands for car accidents?”

“Yeah, so the first responders know what is up if they have to rescue us in the case of a car accident,” Herc replied, pulling his band away from his shoulder to show Alex what he said.

“I’m a paraplegic.” Well, that was the easiest one for Alex to guess. He just wondered how it happened in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) Those protests Laf is talking about I just made up for the sake of this chapter.
> 
> b) The red bands on the seats are a real thing (https://www.google.com/search?q=medical+alert+car+seat+strap&rlz=1C5CHFA_enCA810CA810&sxsrf=ACYBGNSpe7gRucO-WaI09luxM77qGHR7cQ:1569029486403&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjNhLep4uDkAhXPsJ4KHd8eCKEQ_AUIEigB&biw=1465&bih=723#imgrc=T1nY-qM74I_VFM:)
> 
> c) The thing Alex does with his glasses actually does work, try it :)


	22. The University

“Alex, I need to head into the University to go check on some papers, would you like to come with me?” George asked once they were pulling up to the house.

Alex swallowed. As much as he wanted to go to the university, Alex saw the dangers in going. Being alone in the car with George, going anywhere alone with George. But, if he said no, then George would get mad at him saying no and then he’d likely never be allowed to go to the university again.

Though did George ever do anything that indicated that he’d do any of that to Alex? Or insinuate that he would do any of that? No, never.

“Sure,” Alex said quickly. Maybe if he could keep himself between the door and George, he wouldn’t have a terrible time. The university was full of cool people. Surely he could find someone nice to talk to.

* * *

George let Alex sit in the passenger seat, which really didn’t help the pressure weighing down on his busted knees, but he soon forgot about the pain as they drove closer and closer to the university. They drove up towards the main building and Alex tried to commit everything that he was seeing to memory.

The front of the building was beautiful. It looked like an old plantation building. Or perhaps a newer building built in the style of a plantation house. All the front pillars are painted white, with the rest of the building in brick and red-coloured paint. Behind the main building was the sprawling buildings that comprised the rest of the campus. From his sitting place in the van, Alex couldn’t see much of it, but what he saw made his eyes go huge. It was everything he had hoped to see and more.

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” George said as he parallel parked into a spot around the side of one of the buildings. It was a smaller brick building with a white domed roof on top of it.

“This shouldn’t take too long, just have to pick up some papers,” George said as he opened the door to the van. Alex followed, swinging his legs out of the vehicle and standing on the sidewalk. Getting his crutches ready to go, George waited and Alex smiled his thanks to the older man.

“Is your office in this building?” Alex asked.

“Yup, though I never lecture in here,” George said, “Of course that's how that has to work out, isn’t it?”

“Never convenient,” Alex agreed.

“When I’m done at my office, would you like to go to the bookstore?” George asked. Alex whipped his head around, now considerably lighter, and looked at George with wide eyes.

“Of course George,” Alex said, not trying very hard to mask his excitement. George’s office was pretty usual, from what Alex could tell. He had a bookshelf covered in books, a desk covered in papers and a couch with a blanket and a pillow on it. For all the time he seemed to spend at home with Martha and the boys, Alex could see that George had also turned this office into a second home of sorts.

On the walls were framed papers - George’s degrees, from what Alex could see - and a bunch of photographs. As George sat down behind his computer desk to look through one of his desk drawers, Alex forgot his pact to stay between George and the door and wandered closer to some of the frames. There were a few of the boys - Laf and John as younger kids, both with short hair and huge smiles on their faces, standing in the ocean with their pants rolled up to their knees - or one with a very young Laf holding a cat with a huge smile on his face - and another with all three of the boys, Herc sitting in a homemade box car with Laf and John standing on either side of it. Then there were a few of Martha and George. One appeared to be a wedding picture - that one George had hair in, Alex couldn’t picture George with hair - another seemed to be Martha and George standing on the beach, framed by the sunset, kissing in silhouette form. All the pictures really seemed to capture the life that Martha and George were living, and in its own way, Alex found that it was actually really appealing, the whole family and kids thing.

“Alright, let's head to the library,” George finally announced, stuffing a couple more groups of papers into his briefcase while standing up from his desk. Alex smiled and shuffled aside to let George lead the way to the library.

As they walked down the hall that they entered from, George asked, “when was the last time you were enrolled in school Alex?”

Alex swallowed hard. He hadn’t been expecting that question. Thinking back, it had been four placements ago, back in New York at PS115. That was when he’d been living with the Fields family and they’d sent him to school so they wouldn’t have to deal with him. Which was fine. Alex would rather learn that get stuck indoors at a home with people he didn’t know. But then he’d picked a fight within three days of being enrolled, had gotten suspended and was promptly sent on his way with Mr. Samuel. That had been late November, a little over a year into his time in the foster system, and now it was late March. He’d missed basically half of his tenth-grade year.

“November,” Alex replied and that was when George’s step faltered and he stopped for a second.

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t gone to school in four months?” George asked.

Alex shrugged and replied, “haven’t stayed with a family long enough since.”

“When we get home, I shall phone the boys’ school and get you enrolled to start after spring break. For a kid with your level of intelligence, you need to put it to good use,” George said, beginning to walk again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at this! A mid-week update! 
> 
> I don't know, I don't really have a whole ton to say about this chapter other than I did it instead of working on a paper for one of my classes


	23. The combination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-harm, mentions of suicide

George offered to carry Alex’s two books on the walk from the garage to the house and Alex didn't object. After the newspaper snafu that morning, he didn’t want a repeat performance. While he wasn’t exactly thrilled to have someone holding onto his stuff for him, Alex couldn’t deny that the books were heavy and would be impossible to carry on his own.

Entering the house, George let out a loud, “honey, we’re home!” Alex flinched a little at the sound but otherwise made no mention that it was startling.

“I’ll go put these on your desk Alex, okay,” George said, toeing off his shoes before heading on his way.

“Okay. Thank you, George,” Alex said. It took Alex a little bit more time on the shoe removal process but did get both of his new runners off without toppling headfirst into the floor.

Once he was free from his feet jails, Alex followed his ears to the movie room area where he found the other boys sitting on the couch with Martha. Herc had taken the chaise part of the couch today, his wheelchair abandoned under the window. John was sitting on the floor, his headphones sitting on the ground beside him. Martha was sitting behind John, combing through his hair with her fingers, the elastic band that had been in John’s hair on her wrist. Laf was curled into the other side of the couch, his hair poof out of its ponytail as well, though subdued by the black band around his head like one of those rainbow headbands that hippies wore.

“Alex, how was the university? Did you like it?” Martha asked, not taking her hands out of John’s hair.

“It was really awesome! I got to see George’s office and then we went to the library and I found two books that look really good and George said that I could probably go to school!” Alex said, his excitement taking over as he got really animated.

“It sounds like you really had a good time,” Martha said before adding, “did George mention that I’m a prof as well?”

“He did not!” Alex exclaimed.

“Nursing,” Martha said, “not in history or poly-sci or anything like that, but still.”

“That's so cool Martha!” Alex exclaimed again, having a hard time keeping his vocal range in check.

“We’re watching Lord of the Rings,” John said, not turning to look at Alex nor had even acknowledged his presence before that very second.

“Never seen Lord of the Rings,” Alex said. Sure he’d heard about it, seemed like a pretty popular movie at some point but since it hadn’t been shown in school, he’d missed it.

“Come sit, I’ll fill you in,” Herc said, patting the couch cushion beside him. Alex shrugged and went to sit near - but not too close to - Herc. The couch was at just the right height and it made his knees feel almost weightless.

* * *

Once the movie - which Alex found himself enjoying immensely - finished, Martha stated that they needed to get supper started and that she wanted the boy’s help in the kitchen. So up they went, their little rag-tag group of boys, following their mother duck into the kitchen.

“Herc and John, can you peel some potatoes and carrots?” Martha requested before adding, “let me get you each a peeler.”

Moving over towards where Alex had decided to stand to wait for instructions, Alex noted that there was yet another drawer in the kitchen with a lock on it. Taking a step back, he watched as Martha opened it, the combo 34-12-2.

Alex usually found his math and memorization skills useless, though sometimes, they proved fruitful. Now, he knew the combo to this particular locked drawer.

_The knife drawer._

Alex then remembered what Herc had said in the van earlier that day on the ride home from the mall.

_My car accident, that was my fault,_ Herc had said.

He had heavily implied that he had _decided_ to crash the car. Whether or not it had been before or during his time with the Washingtons, Alex wondered if the reason they kept the drawers locked was because of Herc. Because of what he might want to do to himself.

“Alrighty,” Martha muttered to herself, taking two black peelers and a knife out of the drawer before closing it and locking it again. She handed the two utensils over to Herc and John. The boys sat at the table with the garbage can and got to work.

“Laf, could you get some water ready for spaghetti?” Martha asked.

“Yup mom,” Laf said before scooting off to go the requested task. Alex just stood very still, contemplating the new knowledge that Martha had accidentally bestowed on him.

He knew that it would be bad, what he wanted to do. But that wouldn’t prevent it from happening. The only thing he had to make sure of, was that no one caught him. He couldn’t go back to a hospital. That wasn’t an option. Alex had had enough hospitals to last a life-time.


	24. The drawer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS AN SKIP IF ANY OF THIS IS A PROBLEM FOR YOU.
> 
> 1) This chapter jumps back and forth between the present and Alex's memories (in italics). 
> 
> 2) The triggers warnings as they apply to the present simply include attempted self-harm
> 
> 3) The trigger warnings as they appear in order include:  
i) rape/non-con, sexual abuse  
ii) bullying, suicide attempt  
iii) homophobic violence, hospitals  
iv) suicide attempt

Alex wasn’t nearly tired enough to fall asleep and he had elected not to take the pill that made him fall asleep. Even though there was a lock on his bedroom door, that particular pill made him so dead to the world that almost anything could happen to him while under the influence. Things _had_ happened to him while under the influence. He didn’t trust the Washingtons enough. He didn’t like the fact that his door, while it had a lock, could be opened from the outside.

Only minutes later, the rain started pelting on the windows of the house and the noise rattled through Alex’s head. It brought out the thoughts that he worked so hard to keep at bay. Not just those of grief over the death of his cousin, his mother and abuela, the disappearance and assumed death of his brother. But the worse ones. The ones that came after.

* * *

_Harris was a really tall, buff man. Alex wasn’t scared of him. Not yet. Harris just seemed like someone else who was going to tell him that he would get better, that he would recover and he had so much more life to live for. _

_For the first little while, he was the only one Alex believed when he said it. Harris said that they’d work on his ability to use his wrist again, to write again. And they did. Alex couldn’t believe that this man was the first one in his newly destroyed life to have made him a promise and to have kept to it. Harris had given him back his thoughts and his outlet. Harris had given him his mind back. _

_Then the doctors gave Harris the go-ahead to start working on his ankles, knees and hips. Sure, not all the casts were off yet, but he had the strength in his wrist back, he could use the bars for some exercise. Weeks of barely being able to pull himself out of the chair, followed by the pain of actual standing passed and Alex started to doubt Harris again. _

_He’d said that he knew Alex would be able to stand again. It was hard to believe him. _

_Casts started being removed, one by one, and replaced with braces. The first was the cast around his hip. It was glorious to have off. He could use a toilet properly, he could use his wheelchair properly and he could even roll over in bed on his own now. _

_T_ _hat was when it first happened. The first time Harris touched him in a way that Alex now knew was a bad thing. That was something no adult should ever do to a kid. Alex knew that now. But he trusted Harris. He’d said it would help, that it’d make him feel better. Alex believed him. _

_And it did make him feel good. It did make him feel better until afterwards, he hurt more than he did before in places that he was pretty sure won’t supposed to hurt in that way. It kept happening and Alex never said no, because it was the first time in a long time that he felt more than numbness or pain, even if only for a few minutes. _

_The worst part? He liked it. _

_But as his bones and muscles got better and better, Harris got rougher and rougher. It was like he was realizing that the more he helped Alex heal, the more he could do to him. _

_Until one that one time that Harris was just a little too rough and Alex screamed like the hounds of hell were upon him. It hurt worse than the house collapsing on him, it hurt worse than being pulled out of the rubble. Suddenly his entire body was wracked with pain that he couldn’t escape no matter what he did. _

_That was when the nurses unlocked the door. _

_Alex never saw Harris after that. As far as he was aware, nothing happened to Harris. Why would it? Alex was a ward of the state. A child of the hospital. No one could press charges for him. He couldn’t press charges for himself. He was stuck with the knowledge that the man who’d raped him daily for almost six months was still out there somewhere. _

_And no one knew about it. _

* * *

Alex climbed out of bed, ignoring the aching pain that shot through his legs. Without the support of his braces, he grabbed the crutches, hoping that none of the joints decided that it would be a good time to give up on him.

Heading out towards the kitchen, Alex tried to be as silent as possible. From what he understood, George was a light sleeper and he didn’t want to wake him up.

* * *

_ The first home Alex was placed with after he was released from the hospital was a group home. It was all boys ageing 10-17, placing Alex almost right in the middle. That was the home that he realized that his mouth gets him in trouble. _

_With injuries ranging from bruises and scrapes to black eyes, cuts and sprained joints, it didn’t take long for Alex to simply stop talking. _ _He was already the runt of the litter. He was preyed on because he was latino. And he made an easy target because he could barely stand on his own two feet. _

_The man running the home couldn’t have given any less shits about the kids under his supervision and occasionally encouraged their behaviour. _

_That was the first time he tried to take his own life. He was garbage. He was unwanted. He had been beaten, he had been raped and he had been left for dead. No one wanted him and he was a burden on the system - a fact that he was constantly reminded of from almost anyone he cared to talk to. Heck, he even heard it on the news and from the president. No one cared about him. He was just a number and soon, he’d become a statistic. _

_Everyone he loved was dead. He might as well be too. _

* * *

The house was still and quiet as Alex rounded the corner into the kitchen. He headed towards the drawer that he’d seen Martha open just the day before. It was a slow process of remembering exactly how to make his legs cooperate. A process that only reminded him of Harris. It reminded him of that man every time he tried to walk.

* * *

_Alex got bounced from home to home before he ended up with the Jefferson’s. They seemed nice enough on the surface; a mom and a dad, both with stable jobs, and a handful of children. On the surface, they were friendly, never mean to Alex, never confrontational. _

_That year, he started school and shared a homeroom class with the cutest guy he’d seen in a while. He had the leading role in the school’s stage production and just was the coolest guy Alex had ever met. Suddenly, Alex realized that he liked guys. _ _Before the hurricane, Alex had had a crush on a girl at school. So, he knew he liked girls. _

_After the whole “thing” - as Alex had started to refer to it - with Harris, he assumed that anytime he thought any guy was attractive, it was his brain trying to trick him in someway. Like one massive, messed up flashback. _

_Then he met Jonny G and Alex realized that maybe his brain wasn’t trying to screw with him. Maybe these feelings were coming from a real place. _

_There was a club at the school; the Gender and Sexuality Alliance Club, and Alex attended a few meetings, discovering the term “bisexual.” He liked labels. he liked knowing his place in the order of things. This new word, well, it defined his place. And he liked it. _

_So he told his foster family. He was sent to the ER for x-rays that night and then on his way to a new home with Mr. Samuel the next morning. _

* * *

34 - 12 - 2 was the combo that Alex needed. He couldn’t forget. He never seemed to be able to forget anything.

It was hard to stay balanced. He needed both hands to make the lock work, but without his braces, Alex wouldn’t be able to stand without both hands on the crutches. But he figured it was worth a try. He could always try, fail, then go put his braces on and try again.

* * *

_He could still remember the day he attempted to commit suicide the second time. It was on the year and a half anniversary of coming to the mainland. _

_The home he was at, no matter what he did, they didn’t seem to want to give up. _ _He’d talked back, he’d screamed, fought, destroyed but no matter what, they just looked at him with a disappointed look on their faces before proceeding to ignore him. _

_Three months in and Alex had hit his breaking point. At school, they’d spent the day discussing the aftermath of Hurricane Maria and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d requested to go to the bathroom before walking right out the backdoor of the school. It wasn’t planned, he didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he wasn’t going back and he wasn’t going home. _

_He’d decided that taking the subway would probably be the quickest way to get the hell away from where he currently was, so he slowly took the steps down and waited on the platform. Sitting at a bench, Alex missed two north-bound trains while giving himself a break to just think. _

_Then he heard a song on the radio, playing over the speaker system. It wasn’t in English. It was in Spanish. It wasn’t Despacito (god how he hated that song), but it was listing city names. Cities in Puerto Rico. _

_“_Northbound train approaching, stand clear of the yellow line,_” the voice over the speaker system said, cutting off the song. _

_Alex stood and slowly started hobbling towards the yellow line with no intention of stopping once he crossed it. A transit cop grabbed him by the sweatshirt and pulled him away from the edge with only milliseconds to save. _

* * *

Resting his crutches on the countertop, Alex reached out for the lock. He spun the dial to the 34, made it back to the 12 and ended on the two. As silently as possible, he gave it a tug.

The locking mechanism gave but the shift in movement threw him off balance. Alex realized that he was falling, but too late to try to grab a hold of anything. Failing his arms wildly, he knocked his crutches over, the metal crashing to the floor. The lock, which he was no longer holding, swung back and hit the drawer.

Without the proper balance, Alex felt his head collide with the counter top at his back.

That was the last thing he remembered that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) please keep the comments respectful on this chapter more than ever. some of these events I hold very close to my heart and it was extremely difficult to write about. I don't want to read any nasty comments, even if I will just delete them. 
> 
> 2) hopefully this will start the process of Alex healing with the help of the Washingtons (don't worry, it will :))
> 
> 3) Alex is safe now (yes he is unconscious from the blow to his head, but safe nonetheless)


	25. Martha Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter briefly mentions each of the boys' conditions and how they came by them, so trigger warnings in order are:
> 
> Laf: protests and brain injury  
John: domestic violence  
Herc: suicide attempt  
Alex: similar to last chapter but less graphic and more brief

She remembered down to the minute that Samuel phoned and asked if they had space for one more placement. It was probably close to four days ago by now. They hadn’t been actively in the foster system since they took in Hercules a little over a year and a half ago and hadn’t necessarily been looking to add any other children to their family. However, when Samuel sent them the file for a boy named Alexander Hamilton, Martha couldn't find it in herself hot to give the teen at least an opportunity.

Alexander Hamilton.

Quite a big name for such a small child. Solely judging on the picture, Martha would have guessed that he looked almost thirteen, though he was only a few months short of his sixteenth birthday.

Born in the Caribbean. His family was killed in Hurricane Maria, he was injured. Sent to the mainland for medical treatment. Partially disabled ever since.

Martha wasn’t sure when, specifically, they started specializing in children with disabilities. They started their wild ride in the foster system with Laf eight years ago. Back then, all they knew was that their godchild had just been injured in protests in France and his parents had been killed. It was incredibly saddening to receive the news of their friends passing followed by the news that their only child was in a French hospital with a severe head injury.

They had moved to France for six months to wait until Laf was healed enough to come overseas to their house. After another six months of fostering Laf, they adopted him. In that time, Laf’s brain injury had deteriorated into situational epilepsy. But it was something they could deal with. Due to his brain injury from the protests, Laf would have seizures due to lights changing colour or brightness too fast, standing too quickly, or his blood pressure spiking or dropping. But they learned how to deal with it. They adapted. Laf was their child, how could they not?

Two years after that, Laf’s American caseworker contacted them again to say that they had another boy with a brain injury that needed an emergency placement after being released from the hospital. She and George decided that it was as good a time as any to try to add another person to their ranks.

Later that week, a kid by the name of John Laurens with a shaved head and white bandage covering the back of his skull arrived at their door, squinting against the light of the evening sun. Scared and skittish, they figured out that the eleven-year-old was just trying to learn sign language after being deafened through a domestic violence-related brain injury. Martha and George hadn’t seen anything like it and couldn’t believe that someone could possibly do something so horrible to their own child that would cause such a serious injury.

So, they adapted again. The four of them went to American Sign Language courses at the University together and slowly but surely, verbal English and ASL were spoken side-by-side. They bought John high strength sunglasses to counteract the light that never seemed dark enough and noise-cancelling headphones for what useless sounds he could hear.

They were a family of four for three and a half years before Martha got another call from Samuel. Another placement, this time with a more serious disability. A 16-year-old boy, paralyzed from the waist down due to a suicide attempt after being in the foster system his whole life. He was yet to be released from the psychiatric ward of the hospital and wouldn't be until he was stable, but Samuel couldn't find a placement for him nor felt comfortable sending him to a group home.

Three weeks later, Samuel and Hercules arrived at their door. Hercules looked less than pleased to be showing up at their door and it took months before he adjusted completely. But once they figured out that he loved basketball and at least shared a common interest in the sport with George, there was something to connect with him. To break through that shell of misery.

But Alex seemed to be on a plane of his own. Aside from the obvious physical disability, he had a record of fighting, arguing and getting himself bounced out of foster homes in days. His file stated that in two and a half years, he had made his way through over twenty-five homes. There were two suicide attempts listed on his file, both having to do with other moving objects and there was a brief note that he had been sexually assaulted, though never officially confirmed.

George had commented upon reading his file that he was just like a stray dog that kept shitting its way through the neighbourhood trying to find its way home. That perhaps they could give him a fair crack at finding a home. Martha couldn't agree more. So they phoned Samuel and started the process of filling out foster forms.

Alex arrived on their doorstep three days later with his head hanging and leaning forward on two awkward-looking metal crutches that seemed like they were from the turn of the century with both his legs encased in the most bulky braces Martha had seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's midterm season, but hey, I still managed to get a chapter done this week!


	26. George Interlude

It was hard for George to ignore the way that Alex seemed to take notice of things around him. As if he was continually storing knowledge for use at a later date. He wasn’t exactly sure why, so to speak, Alex did that, other than the fact that he was an incredibly bright kid.

That was the first thing that George had noticed when he’d met Alex, was how smart he was. Sure he looked exhausted and scared, but underneath, he could see that everything anyone said was being understood, logged and stored. His brain seemed to be constantly working and analyzing, processing each statement for a threat level or a potential insult. Alex seemed perpetually ready to fight someone.

It was easy to not make a big deal over Alex’s obvious physical disability - he’d been doing it with his other boys for years. He’d found that it was easier to just treat them like his sons and not a medical case. By offering assistance when it only appeared to be absolutely necessary, George had hoped that that would help Alex’s obvious issues with other men.

He did worry for Alex though. And not just because of what he had read in the file that Samuel had passed over. From what he had observed in Alex’s few days with them. Alex had only once smiled, and that was when he had been watching the movie with the boys that evening. The rest of the time, the young boy’s face was just a blank slate. As if he had no emotions at all. Never felt anything. Could not feel anything. He would wince - George gave him that. At least he knew the boy still had the capacity to feel pain. But whatever usually caused him pain, be it sitting, standing or walking, it never prevented Alex from actually doing it. He would just clench his jaw and school his features before continuing to soldier on and pretend that nothing was wrong.

The worst part was the constantly tracking eyes. He would watch every single thing without fail. From making coffee to tying shoelaces to making dinner. Every movement he tracked with those dark, hollow eyes. Viewing, but not really seeing.

He was fairly certain that he could still hear Alex shifting around in his bed after the boy claimed to be too tired to stay up any longer. But, if Alex just wanted some alone time, George wouldn’t fault him for it. Going from families of two or three to a family of five with three teenage boys would be exhausting for him. But now it was late and Alex really should be asleep already - he had watched Alex swallow his sleeping meds hours ago. The poor kid should have passed out by now.

Unless…No. George wanted to trust Alex. Thus far, he hadn’t done anything that would suggest he was any less than trustworthy. But given what was in his file and what George knew about that particular type of sleeping medication, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Alex hadn’t taken it out of fear of being rendered unconscious.

Then he heard the creak of the floorboards over the sound of the rain hitting the side of their house. The process of elimination left John, Laf and Alex. Given that Laf was practically falling asleep in his food over dinner, it was unlikely to be their youngest son. John rarely got out of bed in the middle of the night, a remnant of the years he spent under his father’s lack of care, likely. Which left Alex. Who, at present, seemed the most likely to go for a midnight wander.

So George kept an ear out. In all honesty, he should have been asleep as well, but he just found himself awake thinking about his four boys. It was a common thought occupation lately, it seemed. But that was what coffee was for.

He really didn’t care if Alex wanted to walk around the house in the middle of the night. All the drawers containing anything even moderately dangerous were locked with combination locks. So if it helped Alex get some sleep, he’d let him wander around.

Then there was a loud crash. That got George out of bed to investigate. If Alex had fallen, perhaps he had hurt himself. If Alex was fine and had just knocked something over, then it was better to investigate to ensure nothing was wrong.

Climbing out of bed and making sure to not wake Martha, he headed out into the hall. Sure enough, Alex’s door was wide open and his bed abandoned. It took him a little searching of the various rooms that Alex had gone into willingly thus far with them.

But then he saw him.

The knife drawer was unlocked and open. Alex’s crutches had fallen over onto the floor. And Alex was slumped over against the counter at his back. George refused to let his brain come to a conclusion about what he was seeing in front of his very eyes and simply act. It wasn’t as if he’d done it before.

“MARTHA,” George yelled, not caring if he woke the entire household by screaming for his wife. Whatever Alex had done or decided to try to do, he was obviously out cold and his wife was a nurse. She would know better what to do than he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's here!


	27. Laf Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to hear Laf's side of the story

Laf always heard his classmates muttering under their breath about how his parents were crazy to always foster and adopt broken children. He assumed that that likely meant him too. It was pretty obvious that he was not of his mom and dad’s blood, though he may as well have been. As much as Laf missed his birth parents, he’d now been living with mom and dad longer than he had ever been under the care of maman and papa. It pained him to admit, but the memories were fading and fast.

Laf wondered why mom and dad had decided to take Alex under their roof. Though, every time they took in someone else, Laf always wondered that. He loved Herc and John like they were his real brothers. His two, extremely overprotective, older brothers. Laf wondered if the growing need to protect Alex was like how Herc and John felt towards him. In reality, Laf knew that Alex was a year older than him, but he was just so small and fragile looking that he just wanted to hold him close and shelter him from the world.

He didn’t like how skittish Alex was around mom and dad. They were good people and would never ever hurt someone. He wished there was some way to prove to Alex that they wouldn’t do anything bad. But Alex seemed convinced that everyone - including Laf and his brothers - were out to get him. Laf couldn’t understand truly why Alex was feeling the way he was, but it made sense.

He had read Alex’s file. The evening before he came with Samuel, Laf had snuck into his dad’s office only to find the file sitting open on the desk, open to a photocopy of a hospital report. After reading as much as he could stomach, Laf snuck back into his bedroom and wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night. How could anyone do such a thing to a child? It made him angry at the world - more angry than he already was. He hated these people, all these other families that had neglected, hurt him and violated him. It wasn’t fair. Alex had never done anything wrong.

School the next day was painful, to say the least. The three boys all had gym class in the same block of the day, so he got to witness their classmates picking on John in the changeroom. Again. Sure, the school may have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. It just happened behind closed doors. The worst part? Neither Laf nor Herc could step in to help. Laf knew what could happen if he took a blow to the head, and Herc, well he was essentially strapped down to a piece of metal, as mobile as he could be in the chair. The bullying didn’t turn into a physical altercation, but John didn’t smile for the rest of the day and he didn’t say anything about it to Martha when they got home.

Instead, they saw Alex sitting on one of the stools eating a cookie. And he looked terrified out of his mind. At the shopping mall, Laf didn’t want to mention it, but he saw just how much Alex was in pain. His face scrunched up with every other step, every step he took with his left foot leading. Laf wondered what exactly was causing him so much pain so that maybe he could help. But every time he shot Alex a questioning look, the smaller boy just looked away before he could get a read of any kind.

Then they were eating pizza and Chinese food when Laf could feel the tension between his ears raising to a level that was much beyond normal and comfortable. Too far gone to alert anyone to his impending seizure, Laf tried to ignore the noises to try to bring himself back down. As usual, it didn’t work and he came to laying on the floor of the food court and a five-minute gap in his memory. And he was fucking embarrassed. He hadn’t wanted to have Alex see a seizure within his first day of living with them.

Laf knew that it was a fact of life that he just had to deal with. He’d been dealing for eight years and it was getting exhausting. He didn’t want to deal, he wanted to live without the worry of having a seizure at every other turn. He wanted to be normal and just hang out with his brothers like a normal family. And if Alex was going to be part of that family, then Laf was going to treat him like Herc and John. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that I will get back to Alex narrating, but I think that this is a good part to let everyone else have a turn to speak.


	28. John Interlude

John didn’t know what to think about Alex. They were the same age, sure, and they were both of Latin heritage. Other than that, there was very little that they had in common.

Or, at least, that's what he thought. He hadn’t been able to catch everything Alex said over dinner, lip-reading was difficult at the best of times, but he did say something about reading. John didn’t mind reading, but being a gay and deaf young man of colour, he found himself most commonly occupied with advocacy projects. At school, they had bought braille textbooks, only two of each copy, but it was a start. Something was better than nothing. They’d just recently added a gender-neutral washroom. Again, only one, but one - for those who needed it - was better than nothing.

It gave John something to do with his life, and it gave him a renewed purpose. They’d just recently celebrated the fifth anniversary of John coming to live with the Washingtons, but even with the length of time that has passed, his father’s words still echoed in his head. They were the last words he’d ever heard. The last words he’d ever get to hear. His hearing was gone - there was no surgery that could be done to get it back.

"You're a worthless excuse of a son," were the last human words he’d ever heard. It was his father screaming at him followed by the sound of a fist connecting with his cheek then the sickening crack of his skull against a concrete stair - fracturing his skull and plunging him into darkness. When he woke up, his head was bandaged and all he heard was a faint ringing.

John hated the world - though hate wasn’t an adequate enough word for how he felt. Even though his father was in jail, that mattered nothing to John. But what did intrigue him, was the fact that his testimony had put him there. The power of his words - falling from a deaf mouth - had shown the court that the eleven years of abuse and months of surgeries deemed this person a monster and that he was fit to serve jail time. Getting textbooks and universal washrooms weren’t as extreme, but it was still him being useful and making the world a better place.

He remembered when Herc had arrived at the Washington residence. John didn’t know what to think about other than the fact that his singularly most effective mode of communicating with him was being impeded by the necessity to move with his hands. He didn’t even know if Herc would bother learning sign language and considered it lucky that the Washingtons had been so willing to do so.

Alex was in the same boat. His hands were singularly occupied with holding himself up and John figured that even if he did learn, they’d never truly be able to communicate in any type of fluid pattern. At least Herc could glide for a short distance and use his hands to get a short sentence in if they were talking.

John and Laf, well they seemed to have a different bond than he had ever had with Herc. They shared the same method of injury, ultimately, and it was messed up, but they bonded over it. He and Herc, they were brothers and friends, but the connection wasn’t as deep yet. He wondered where Alex could possibly fall into this mess. Perhaps he’d bridge both sides. John was willing to give it a try as long as Alex was willing to reciprocate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one weekend? Amazing!
> 
> I'm hoping to finish off Herc's interlude tonight and get it out to you guys at some point tomorrow :)


	29. Herc Interlude

Herc, in almost a year and a half of living with the Washingtons, he’d become very protective of his two little brothers. He just wanted to keep them safe. He may be wheelchair-bound, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a large physical presence.

In short, people didn’t pick on him, but they did pick on John and Laf and he didn’t like that. All the assholes at school liked picking on Laf for his flamboyance and John for his headphones, glasses and advocacy projects. They made easy targets, and that was exactly what high school bullies wanted.

Herc was never a target, even before his accident, but he also never stopped anyone. He wasn’t exactly popular, never stayed at one school long enough to become popular, but he was athletic and was good at almost every sport he tried his hand at. So he hung around with a bad crowd most of the time. He never actively engaged in picking on others but didn’t prevent it either.

With John and Laf, he felt the need to make sure that nothing happened to them. But it still did. If Herc wasn’t wheelchair-bound, he was fairly certain that he would have punched everyone that was making fun of Laf and pushing John around.

Seeing Alex walking into the kitchen, following George, barely managing to get one foot in front of the other, mostly supporting himself on his crutches, Herc knew that he would be eaten alive in school - likely already had been, judging on his wary look in Herc’s direction.

He felt the need to protect Alex. Though, he figured that Alex wouldn’t be enrolled in public school until after the spring break - which gave him just under two weeks to gain Alex’s trust.

Herc hadn’t read Alex’s file, wanted his secrets to stay secret as long as he wished them to stay in such a way. But he was curious - just a little - to know what pained Alex in such a way to carve such deep lines into his wrists. Yeah, Herc had seen them. His unique vantage point from about half the height of Alex allowed him to get a couple glimpses up his long sleeves. When he shifted and arm forward to aid in taking a step, his shirt sleeve lifted just a little. From a full height, they would be invisible, hidden, under the fabric. Herc saw them the first time only briefly at the mall while they were walking and again when he was instructed to look for a duffel bag to put his clothes in.

He wanted to reach out to Alex - emotionally, not physically - and offer kind words. That life was worth living. That after having his almost swept away from him, he realized just how much there was out there aside from his own misery. And he had been miserable, still was, for the most part, but he was getting better and that was important. He wanted to tell Alex that he could get better as well. But Alex wouldn’t get close enough to him to even attempt speaking in any semblance of private.

He bet that it would take a long time before they were able to get to that point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter than normal, but I couldn't really fit anything else in. I hope the three from this weekend made your weekend better, it made mine better for sure. 
> 
> see y'all later,  
-MRT


	30. Martha Interlude #2

John slept through it, he always did. No auditory cues alerted him to the fact that his foster brother had managed to knock himself unconscious. Laf and Herc were out of bed as soon as they had heard George screaming bloody murder in the kitchen. Thank the Lord her husband was loud.

Luckily, Martha had very rarely had to use her nurse training on any of her three boys. Sure a scraped knee or a blister here and there were manageable, but - knock on wood - never anything big. Even Herc, whose wandering eyes would catch on something particularly dangerous left out on the counter, would tell one of them or his therapist before he actually did anything. And Martha had no reason to believe actually Alex would be any different.

Then she saw his limp body rested half-sitting against the counter, crutches and glasses on the floor, lock to the knife drawer open and her husband at his side. Yeah, Alex would be different.

George was holding a bunched up rag to the back of Alex’s head, the material staining just enough for her to see blood. Her husband - having likely heard the crash first - was not even dressed, his bare feet under his plaid sleep pants, not even putting a shirt or robe on yet.

"Call 911," Martha yelled, not caring if the other boys heard her. The crash and yelling would have woken them anyways. Around that time Laf had run into the kitchen - hair wild, face confused.

“Laf, go get the first aid kit,” Martha ordered her youngest son, not even turning to face him as she snatched the rag from George’s shaking hands and shoving him in the direction of the landline. Sometimes, her husband got too far into his head - recalling things from his army years - and needed a heavy hand to get out of it.

Turning to Alex, she moved his limp body away from the counter he was slumped against to investigate the wound on his head. It wasn’t bleeding profusely, but enough that it would likely cause some lightheadedness had Alex been conscious. Though head wounds always bleed more than literally any other type of wound, so it probably wasn’t bad. The skull - upon careful prodding - was certainly intact with no soft spots or unusual lines.

“Here mom,” Laf said, handing over the first aid kit. The gauze in the kit would certainly be more sterile than the rag George had found from who knows where.

“Go check on your father, make sure he’s got 911 on the line,” Martha ordered before pulling the gauze package and saline bottle from the kit. Thankful that Alex had decided to cut his hair so short earlier that day, she was able to apply the saline to the wound with little hindrance.

“911 is on their way,” George reported, his hands shaking less than before.

“Take one of the ATV’s and go down to the highway with a flashlight, you’ll likely need to guide them out here,” Martha instructed before asking, “Is Laf still on the line with the dispatch?”

“Yeah,” George grunted out, already pulling on his boots and jacket, getting ready to go summon the ambulance. Finding the keys, George was gone. That was when Herc glided into the kitchen.

“Herc, can you take the phone from Laf and send him over here?” Martha requested. As much as she would have liked to have Herc’s help, he couldn’t get close enough to the floor to actually be of use. Herc complied without question

“What do you need mom?” Laf asked.

“Come down here and hold this tight to Alex’s head,” Martha instructed. Laf’s hand replaced hers, holding the gauze to the wound.

Once she had two hands free, Martha took the small penlight out of the first aid kit and used the pad of one of her thumbs to open Alex’s eyelid. Shining the small light across his eye, she watched for the expansion of his pupil. Smiling to herself when it reacted as expected, Martha moved over to the other side. His left pupil was blown, dilated as if he was high, and didn’t react to her penlight. If she had to guess, Martha would have said he had managed to concuss himself.

Hopefully, that was all it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this weekend will be the last one from the perspective of other characters. I'm posting Martha's second interlude today followed by George's second one sometime either tomorrow or Sunday (whenever I finish it) then we'll get back to Alex talking.
> 
> As well, hopefully, this weekend and next weekend's chapters start wrapping up all the angst and we can start getting some happy family bonding type things. I think I've tortured poor Alex enough


	31. George Interlude #2

The doctors had decided to keep Alex sedated for the time being. Aside from the fact that he had likely just attempted suicide, the poor kid was obviously extremely sleep deprived, and the joints in his knees and ankles had taken quite the beating, now displaying purplish bruises. It was for his own sake that the doctors decided to allow him sixteen hours of peaceful sleep - something which George understood was desperately needed.

The doctors assured him that the sedatives were strong enough that there was no way Alex could possibly dream, leaving him free from his own memories. They said that he had suffered only a mild concussion, which was infinitely lucky considering the force in which he had seemed to have hit his head. With his extremely short hair, the doctors didn’t need to shave any additional hair to bandage his wound - which was not deep enough to need stitches. George had gingerly placed Alex's glasses on his nose just after they settled him in his isolated room. The doctor wasn't impressed, but let him do it anyways.

Alex would likely have an awful headache when he woke, and little to no recollection of the events of the prior day, but otherwise, he’d be completely intact. Which was unfortunate, but at least Alex wouldn’t lose more memories. George thought they’d made real progress that day including their library trip. Alex likely wouldn’t even recall that. George wondered if that was a blessing or a curse. Alex was obviously extremely intelligent, and had spent significant time reading to add to his wealth of knowledge. His intellectual abilities were obviously much greater than anyone else George had ever met and it would be a tremendous loss if he lost his entire memory. As well, that would erase his memories of his birth family, and those were to be treasured.

However, there were so many bad memories that he had managed to accumulate in just two years. Surviving Hurricane Maria and having your entire family die in front of you would have been enough to give Alex a significant case of PTSD. Then he was raped. Sure his file said that it was never confirmed, but George figured that if it was included, the likelihood of the event happening was quite high. Followed by years of abuse at the hands of various foster families and two suicide attempts. There were plenty of memories that would be better lost.

He had read Alex’s chart, was able to get access to it due to his position as a legal guardian. It was the full workup that the doctors and nurses had done when Alex arrived since they had no other medical records of his worth speaking of. It pained George to see all the tiny little white scars on the insides of Alex’s wrists, each marking identical in length and distance from the next, intersected at random by larger, longer, deeper ones. Self-inflicted wounds meant to hurt and cause pain. Self-inflicted wounds aiming for major veins and arteries. Self-inflicted wounds meant to end one's life. He couldn’t imagine how horrible Alex was feeling about this life to attempt something like that.

Subconsciously, from years of mental training, George tugged at the cuffs of his sweatshirt sleeves, the fabric stretching lower and covering over the tattoo sleeves inked onto his forearms.

* * *

It was just after four in the afternoon on the same day that George was sitting at Alex’s bedside. They’d decided that someone had to stay with Alex - he was their foster son, after all - so that he wasn’t alone when he woke and would likely be disoriented out of his mind. Martha had left around eleven that morning to go home and hang out with their legal sons, a job George had been attending since midnight after the ambulance had left. She needed her rest as well.

He wasn’t particularly sure what he was supposed to do while Alex was out like a rock, but he remembered back to all the time he had spent in a hospital while Laf was recovering. It wasn’t necessarily that he even said or did anything. Sometimes it was just better to be there.

The doctor walked into the room at 4:05 with a chart in her hand.

“It looks like it is about time to take Alexander off his meds,” the doctor -Schuyler, George seemed to remember that her name was - said as she walked over to the IV drip bag.

“So he’ll wake up?” George asked, thinking it was probably not a good thing to be alone with Alex in the same room when that happened.

“Correct, he’ll likely be quite confused, though we don’t know for certain how he’ll react. It's in accordance with hospital policy that he must be in a four-point restraint when he comes to, due to his corresponding mental health issues,” Dr. Schuyler explained.

It made sense to George, in literally any other circumstances than this one. Alex trusted no one. He thought that the world was going to hurt him and it had.

This was not going to go well and George knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've never mentioned George's tattoos before this and I suppose that was an oversight on my part, but he has had them this entire time (I did legit plan this, I swear). 
> 
> To be honest, this chapter is basically foreshadowing 101.
> 
> As well, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, leaving kudos and commenting. This is my most popular fic so far and its 12 hits away from cracking 3000! I'm extremely excited!


	32. The hospital

The last thing Alex remembered was the feeling of falling backwards. For the life of him, he had no recollection of anything in between or how he ended up being soft cuffed to a hospital bed.

First, his mind was foggy, and he wasn’t totally sure of where he actually was. Was he back in bed at the Washington’s and everything had just been a bad dream? It wouldn’t have been the first time that he had had such a freakishly realistic dream. Then he tried to move and found that he had been cuffed down. That was when he realized that he was no longer at the Washington’s home. He recognized the feeling of hospital-grade wrist bindings and the itchy-ness of a gown with nothing sharp attached, the velcro digging into his side bringing a sharp realization to the situation.

He was at the hospital. And in the psych ward too. Of course.

So it had been real. He had gone into the kitchen. He had gone into the knife drawer. But everything beyond that, how he ended up here, tied to a bed, he couldn’t remember. Now he was stuck, had likely been thrown back into the system by the Washingtons, and at a hospital. He didn’t even know which one.

“You’re awake,” a female voice said.

If Alex was being completely honest, he was starting to get really sick of hearing people speaking to him without him knowing who they were or seeing them face to face. It had been happening far too much recently. For a family with a child who relied heavily on visual cues, the Washington’s seemed to like to not actually show their faces. And whoever it actually was - because it surely wasn’t the Washington’s, they’d likely ran off - seemed to be following the pattern.

Alex only grunted in reply to the voice, he didn’t feel like someone who hid in the dark to speak to him was worth a verbal reply.

“Hi Alexander, my name is Dr. Angelica Schuyler. How are you feeling?” the female voice said to him. She was likely standing somewhere near his feet, which Alex couldn’t actually see because he was attached to his damn bed. They seemed to think he was a flight risk. Or, that was the excuse that had been given to him the last time he had ended up strapped to a hospital bed.

“Would you prefer to show me a number on your fingers?” the lady asked.

Alex, still reluctant to give her any information, decided that it would be better if she left, so he showed her a one - the lowest on their stupid pain ranking system. He would have been surprised if she actually saw it in the darkness of the room. The lights were off and the light from the hallway barely entered a foot into the space.

“Can you show me the year number on your fingers?” the doctor asked, obviously trying to assess his level of consciousness.

He showed a four on one hand followed by a five on the other, hoping that that adequately conveyed 2019 to Dr. Schuyler. It seemed to work and he could hear her scratching something in pencil onto her clipboard.

“Okay hon, well, you know the button to press if you need anything. I’ll be back to speak with you a little later,” Dr. Schuyler, whom Alex was now realizing was the only person who could discharge him from this hellhole - said to him. Kicking himself mentally - because he sure as hell couldn’t do it physically while his ankles were attached to the edges of the bed - for being so brash towards the one person he needed to please.

“Before I leave, would you like the lights on or off?” Alex weighed his choices as quickly as he could through the pounding in his head. Lights on meant he could see everything and everyone. Lights off meant he could rest his eyes against the pounding pressure within his skull.

“On,” Alex grunted, deciding that he could deal with the pain before adding, “please.”

“Alright hon, I’ll turn them on halfway. Remember, the red button will summon me or a nurse if you need something,” the doctor said before turning on the light.

That was when Alex heard screaming. He realized too late that it was coming from his mouth. But regardless of the noises he was making, he could see George sitting in the chair beside the door. George was big. He was strong. And Alex was completely prone, strapped to the bed.

How could the doctor just leave him alone like this?! She was enabling George. He knew was what going to happen. George would see the opportunity and take it the second that the doctor left the room.

He didn’t even consider the fact that since George was in the hospital room with him, it meant that he wasn’t being sent back into the system. It didn’t even cross his mind. He was too deep into fight and flight territory that nothing was getting through to his brain other than don’t let anyone touch you, get the hell out of here.

Tearing at the restraints as best as he could even though his logical mind knew that nothing he did would jar them loose, Alex tried to squirm away, get his legs closed and knees closer. He had to fight. If nothing else, he had to try.

That was when he knocked his glasses loose. In his right mind, Alex would have likely pondered how it came to be that he was now wearing his glasses, or the fact that no other psych ward had let him do so. But as they tumbled to the floor, he gasped. George would take them and break them. He wouldn't even be able to see what was going to happen.

His sudden outburst had the desired effect, however, and Dr. Schuyler immediately turned around to face him and re-enter the room.

“Alexander, what is wrong? Is it the light?” Dr. Schuyler asked, Alex closing his mouth and stopping the screaming once he realized that she wasn’t going to leave.

“Don’t turn off the lights,” Alex hissed, pulling on his restraints while trying to get as far away from George as possible.

“I won’t,” Dr. Schuyler said, dropping her hand away from the switch on the wall, “can you tell me why you were screaming?”

“George,” Alex whispered, dropping his head and looking at his lap, not wishing to see the look on the big man’s face when he said his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-week post!!! I finished up a 25 page paper for university last night, so I decided to treat myself to some writing time afterwards. Here y'all go!
> 
> Another chapter will still be up on the weekend, don't worry.


	33. A conversation

Coming down from the adrenaline, Alex realized that George likely didn’t intend to hurt or touch him. But it felt very real only seconds ago and now that he opened that can of worms in front of Dr. Schuyler, he’d have to close it.

“Would you like to explain what that was all about?” Dr. Schuyler asked once she had shooed a very concerned looking George out into the hallway and handed Alex his glasses back.

“Not really,” Alex said, picking at the wrist of his right restraint band with his fingernails.

“Did George do something to you over the past two days?” she asked and that was when Alex clued in to what she was implying. She thought that George had hurt him in some way and he was going to get George in trouble for behaving so irrationally. George did nothing. He was the innocent victim in all this and suddenly Alex felt his stomach drop.

“NO,” Alex exclaimed as fast as he could, shaking his head violently. That caused his vision to temporarily blur as his head swam. He closed his eyes as tight as he could until he no longer felt like he was going to throw up on himself.

“Did he ever mention that he was going to do such a thing to you, Alexander?” Dr. Schuyler asked, making note of something on her clipboard.

“No,” Alex said more calmly this time, realizing that, as he said it, George was the second adult male in his ruined life that had never put him in jeopardy. He didn’t know if he would be able to truly ever turn off his wild fight and flight reflexes, but he thought, maybe for the Washington’s, he’d give it a try.

Once Dr. Schuyler seemed convinced that George had never done anything to Alex, she asked him if he’d like to see him again. Alex was not quite sure that he was ready, so to speak, but he felt that George deserved an explanation for what he had just witnessed. And not a second-hand account, because those were always mangled in translation.

“Could you please take these off me?” Alex asked quietly, jingling his wrists within the restraints, making them clink against the metal bars of the bed.

“Do you realize why you have those restraints on Alexander?” Dr. Schuyler asked, his full name grating in his already pained skull.

“Because you all think that I tried to kill myself,” he said, “and based on what you know and have seen, you think that that's the most likely cause.”

“Is that a correct assumption,” she asked and for the first time tucked her clipboard under her arm.

“No,” Alex replied. It was not his intention to kill himself last night. Before going to his last group home, Mr. Samuel had found his razor blade hidden in his backpack and he just wanted to find a small replacement. He wasn’t even necessarily planning on using it, though Alex wondered if that was just a lie he was currently telling himself to make him feel better about the whole thing.

“Was it because of another reason? Alexander, I refuse to believe that you went into a locked knife drawer just for the fun of it,” Dr. Schuyler reasoned with him and Alex knew she knew why, he was wearing a short-sleeve shirt, the whole wide world could see his wrists. She wanted him to say it.

“I needed a release,” Alex muttered, knowing from past hospital visits that that was the kind of statement that floated their boat. They found that an acceptable version of “I deserve the pain and nothing else was doing it.”

“How would you feel about a compromise,” Dr. Schuyler asked, “I’ll let you out of your restraints, but you aren’t allowed to leave your room without me or a nurse.”

“Deal,” Alex snapped. The quicker he was free, the sooner he could defend himself. As promised, Dr. Schuyler released his wrists followed by his legs.

“So would you like to have a talk with George or would you like some alone time?” Dr. Schuyler asked once Alex was freed. He revelled in the feeling of being able to move completely and pulled his limbs closer to himself.

“Could I talk to George?” Alex replied, using his arms to help pull his left leg closer to the rest of his body, the limb still not strong enough to move completely on its own.

“Of course,” she said, heading towards the door, “remember, the red button will summon someone right away if you need us.”

Then she was gone, likely to go find George, and Alex was alone with his thoughts for the first time thus far. He didn’t mind Dr. Schuyler. He liked her gentle seriousness and how she ultimately didn’t let him get away with anything. Maybe she would actually be able to see through his bullshit lie of, “I’m fine” that got him out of many a hospital and maybe he’d get some kind of real treatment.

Maybe.

He liked that she implied that the red button will summon someone, regardless of a medical emergency or not. If he needed her, or someone, the button would bring them. She was giving him a cop-out in his conversation with George. If something was making him uncomfortable, someone would be there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna do one chapter today and one (that I'm really excited for) on this Saturday/Sunday . Expect the next one on Sunday next week. 
> 
> Even though I am officially on reading week now, I have so much other reading/writing to get done that I don't think anything will get done till then. 
> 
> Thank you for so many amazing comments and kudos. 
> 
> Hope y'all have a good weekend and week, see you soon
> 
> Stay safe y'all <3


	34. A story for a story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-harm justification, mentions of sexual assault/rape (George just calls it assault, but he means that)
> 
> Stay safe y'all <3

“Hi Alex,” he heard George say, the man’s body completely filling the doorway to the hospital room, “can I come in?”

“Sure,” Alex muttered, trying to meet his eyes. He noticed that George was now holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper rolled up in the other. Neither hand was free and Alex wondered if Dr. Schuyler had suggested that to him. Both hands were occupied and could not be used against him.

“I’m going to sit in that chair,” George said, his newspaper hand gesturing towards the chair he had been sitting in only minutes before. When Alex said nothing in response, George went and sat, not putting down either his coffee or newspaper. They stayed put in his hands, and Alex found himself liking the system.

“How does your head feel?” George asked and Alex turned his torso to look at him better.

“I’m a little dizzy, I guess, but it doesn’t really hurt,” Alex replied and it wasn’t particularly a lie. The wound on the back of his head really didn’t hurt. His eyes and his head did though, and it seemed like the light was only making it worse.

“That's good to hear,” George replied before seeming to think on his next statement, “You scared us Alex.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex replied as quickly as possible. He wasn’t completely sure what he was sorry for. Sorry for disrupting their spring break? Sorry for ruining their evening? But usually saying sorry helped. And George cracked a small smile. So maybe he thought that it helped.

“Would you like to tell me what you were doing in the kitchen last night?” George asked, cocking his head to the side. Alex couldn’t believe it. Surely George knew exactly what had happened. Or - exactly what he thought had happened.

“Thought you would be able to have guessed,” Alex snapped back, “logically, you’ve come to a conclusion by now and whatever I say won’t change what you think you saw.”

“What the hell Alex,” George said, “Of course I have my own guess, but I want to hear your side. I want to understand what I saw.”

“I needed a release,” Alex replied, an exact repeat of what he had told Dr. Schuyler earlier. It seemed to placate her, and if it worked on a doctor, surely it’d work on George.

“Now, that sounds to me like nothing more than some kind of intelligent justification for your actions that is exactly what the medical professionals want to hear, but not close enough to the actual issue to get yourself in serious trouble,” George replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, a look of “I can see right through your lies,” plastered to his face.

“Would you like to take a second try at answering my question?” George asked, voice softer now than in his previous statement.

“Not particularly,” Alex replied, crossing his arms, mimicking the look George was giving him. He wanted to force George into a stalemate. Force him to reveal his hand, because surely there was something else that the big man was hiding. But it was hanging just out of Alex’s reach.

“Can I share something Alex?” George asked, leaning forward on his knees, looking Alex right in the eye.

“Your choice,” Alex snapped. He really didn’t want to hear what George had to say. He didn’t want George to tell him some kind of barely related story that he thought tied into what Alex had gone through in some way. But, he figured George would tell the story either way, so he might as well get it over with.

“I was assaulted when I was sixteen,” George said and Alex immediately snapped his head up to look at the bigger man. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe...no, Alex refused to jump to conclusions on a confession like that. He wanted, suddenly, to hear George out. Perhaps they shared something, a common ground.

“It was my football coach,” George continued, his eyes appearing to search Alex's carefully schooled face for any signs of discomfort.

When he saw none, he continued, “and it happened after almost every practice for the entire season. I...did things for him, in return, I got to be a quarterback - practically unheard of for a sixteen-year-old on a high school team. My teammates didn’t like it, but I had the coaches backing, so I didn’t complain. Finally, my best friend confronted me about it, and I told him the truth. He encouraged me to go talk to the admin, and I did. The story broke, the coach was fired. I got really depressed and angry and ended up dropping out of high school to join the Army. I believed that I was solely responsible for this man losing his job.”

“I know you can’t see it anymore,” George continued, rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, “but I have very similar scars as you, Alex. I believed that I had caused so much pain to our small town while I was the only one benefitting, that I deserved to feel the same way. My tattoos cover the scars up now.”

Suddenly Alex saw George in a different light. He wasn’t just a university professor. He wasn’t just a foster parent. He was a human with very human experiences and emotions. Alex had guessed that George was in the military - had briefly seen a small wallet-sized headshot of George in his dress uniform in a frame somewhere in the house - but he had never wondered if George’s tattoos had an additional meaning.

They covered the entirety of both his forearms, from what Alex could tell, and he was fairly sure that when he had seen George in a t-shirt the other day, they extended under the fabric as well. They were intricate sleeves of inked patterns covering almost every inch of skin. An outside observer would only see tattoos, though, to George and Alex, they both knew that they meant much more than that.

“I deserve the pain,” Alex whispered quickly and for the first time, after being asked that question, he found himself telling the truth. He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to tell George after only knowing the man for a few days, but some little voice in the corner of his brain said that George was a decent person. The little voice in the back of his head told him that he could trust George and that George would understand.

“Oh Alex,” George whispered back, “don’t you think that you’ve more than fulfilled your life-time-quota of pain?”

_Fascinating_, Alex thought, George wasn’t trying to argue with him, so to speak. Though, he did recognize the technique. Don’t directly state that the claim someone has made is false, rather show an alternative school of thought.

“Maybe. But all I do is cause others pain. Surely I actively need to repay that?” Alex argued. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was actually expressing his own thought progression anymore or just engaging in debate with George simply for the sake of debate. Perhaps both. Perhaps George would recognize that.

“Do you think you are causing our family pain?” George asked and Alex realized that he was being sincere. He wanted to understand.

“Yeah. I’ve been nothing but trouble for you since I arrived,” Alex said, which he did believe, “it would be better for everyone if you just sent me back with Mr. Samuel. Everyone else does that.”

“We’re not going to ‘send you back’, I hope you realize that,” George said, softly and yet firmly, “I know what’s in your file, medically and socially, I realize that that is hard to swallow. But we’re not going to send you on your way with Mr. Samuel because I’m fairly sure under this facade of strength, there's a sixteen-year-old boy hiding inside you somewhere that just needs to be loved.”

Alex couldn’t believe how remarkably well George had seen through his defences. As if his front that he put on every morning didn’t even exist, or was becoming invisible.

He felt a weird emotion start to surface. He wasn’t really certain where it had come from or if there was a name for it, only that he knew he hadn’t felt it in a very very long time. That was when he felt a prickling sensation in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of George, but he felt that perhaps it was too late. All the thoughts and fears of the past few days bubbled to the forefront and he felt the first tear slip down his cheek.

“Oh Alex,” George said, placing his coffee cup and newspaper down on the small table beside his chair and standing. Alex didn’t really register the movement through his thoughts of guilt at what he had done. Sniffling a little, Alex wiped away the first few tears before the flood gates opened and suddenly his face was cascading like waterfalls.

When George sat at the very end of the hospital bed, easily two feet away from any part of Alex, he didn’t find himself recoiling.

“I want to make you a promise Alex,” George said and through his tears, he could barely see George turn to face him slightly more. Alex sniffled and pulled his glasses off his face to wipe his eyes and cheeks, cleaning them before putting them back against his nose.

“I promise to not ever approach you any closer than this without your permission Alex,” George said, gesturing in the space between them on the bed.

Alex smiled.

For the first time in his life, he trusted a promise like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After now, Alex's life is going to start going back up again and the story will start getting much cheerier and I've got some really cute/sweet/Lams/bonding stuff planned. Its gonna be good.


	35. A lonely evening

Visiting hours ended at five, and that was when Alex realized that George was going to have to leave and he’d end up being alone for the rest of the night. When the announcement came over the PA system saying that all visitors had to leave within the next fifteen minutes, Alex felt himself panicking again. Sure, he hadn’t wanted George here earlier, but now that he had to leave, Alex didn’t want him to go.

“I brought some things for you,” George said, standing and moving towards his shoulder bag that Alex had briefly noticed when he’d first looked around.

“The doctors approved this stuff, so they promised they won’t take it from you,” George added, digging into the bag. He pulled out one of the second-hand textbooks that he had picked out at the library the day before.

“You brought one of the new books!” Alex exclaimed, reaching for the book and feeling himself getting really excited. He was amazed that George had considered doing that for him. Too engaged in examining the book that George had brought along, he didn’t notice that a massive smile broke out on George’s face.

“Thought you might want something to read,” George said. Alex was too engrossed in quickly flipping through the book - _A Series of Treaties On Modern Government_ \- to notice the next thing he’d pulled out of the bag.

“Martha found this,” George said, holding out what looked like a nightlight, towards Alex, “She wanted to put it in your room, but...you ended up...here. Thought it might help after lights out tonight.”

Alex pouted a little. He didn’t want to use a nightlight. Nightlights were for babies, not sixteen-year-old teens.

“Alex,” George said slowly, “you know it's gonna get dark in here tonight. The rules are that the nurses close and lock the door before turning the lights off. Don’t tell me that I didn’t notice how at our house you left the curtains to the windows in your room open all night. It's okay to not like the dark.”

Alex didn’t want to admit that to George even if he was right. He had never liked the dark, even back at home in Puerto Rico. Never understanding why; Alex got by on the island by the light from the moon reflecting off the ocean and through his open window. In various homes around New York, the light pollution through his window served his purposes. Out in the country with the Washington’s, where the light pollution was non-existent, he’d found himself going back to the light of the moon.

“How about this, I’ll plug it in and if you don’t want to turn it on, you don’t have to, deal?” George said, going down on one knee and putting it into the covered wall socket. Alex didn’t have to tell anyone that he used it - same with the deceptively convenient shower bench in the Washington’s - and he’d turn it off before anyone came around the next day.

“M’kay,” Alex muttered as George stood up and shouldered the bag he had brought with him.

“I have to get going now kiddo,” George said, reaching his hand out as if to touch him in some way. Alex jerked back at the same time George snapped his hand back towards him as if he’d already forgotten their agreement.

"I’ll come back tomorrow morning at nine am sharp, okay?” George continued, his voice getting a little shaky, “try to get some sleep tonight. Don’t stay up and read.”

Alex nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. He didn’t want George to leave, he didn’t want to be left alone all night. Instead, Alex just nodded.

“See you tomorrow morning,” George said, grabbing his empty coffee cup and heading towards the door.

“George,” Alex said quietly, causing the big man to stop and turn around.

“Yeah?” George replied.

“Um...thanks for...believing me,” Alex said softly, “thanks for...you know...being here.” And he believed it. He really was glad that George had been around. It worried Alex how quickly it was that he felt himself becoming attached to George. He trusted him. He knew George wouldn’t do anything to him, as hard as the devil’s advocate in his brain was screaming at him to think otherwise.

“You’re welcome Alex,” George replied, “sleep well son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is your chapter for the weekend!
> 
> George is happy because Alex remembered the books and their library visit. Without having George's point of view, I had to show his happiness through a smile. 
> 
> I've still not been able to track down the copied version of this, so I'm gonna keep the other chapter up till I can find it. 
> 
> Stay safe y'all, see you next weekend <3


	36. The next morning

At some point, Alex had fallen asleep. He couldn’t quite remember when, but he woke to the sound of keys jingling in the door to his room. Sitting upright as fast as possible, Alex tried to scrub his eyes to clear the sleep and punched his glasses instead.

“Shit,” Alex muttered to himself, pulling them away from his ears, obviously having forgotten to remove them the night before and held them within two inches of his face, examining them for any cracks or breaks which he may have inflicted on them.

The door opened to the lit hallway and Alex saw a nurse standing in the doorway. Placing his glasses - which were lucky to be unscathed - back on his nose, he saw a small lady, much smaller than the doctor from the day before, but bearing an uncanny resemblance. She was wearing yellow scrubs and had her hair tied back into a ponytail that looked so tight Alex wondered if it was giving her a headache.

“Good morning Alexander,” the nurse said, “would you like your lights on yet?”

“Um...sure...please,” Alex stuttered. He was still a little foggy, the memories of the past few days flooding back into his mind. Right. He was still at the hospital.

“There you go,” the nurse said, flicking the lights on and lighting the room, “how do you feel this morning?”

“Fine,” Alex replied. He did kind of feel better. Sure, his head hurt a little, but it was better than the day before.

“Alright, well, it looks like you’ve already got your book out, so I’ll leave you alone,” the nurse said, “breakfast will be at nine, same as visiting hours.”

Then the nurse was gone and Alex looked down into his lap to see that his textbook was still open on his lap, a couple of chapters at least into the material. Right. He’d stayed up and read until he couldn’t keep his eyes open last night. But really, he didn’t feel that tired, though he doubted that they’d be willing to give him any coffee. Coffee would be nice right about now.

Alex wished he had a clock. That was one thing he was usually pretty decent at guessing the rough time of day based on the sun - a skill he’d picked up living on the island - but in a room with a window that faced away from the rising sun, he had no reference of the height of the sun.

But, the lights were now on, he had his glasses and he had his book. Why not continue reading it? Alex was about two chapters farther into the material than when he had started when he heard a knock on the open door frame to his room.

Snapping his head up to see who wanted his attention, he saw George and John standing in the doorway. George was wearing a burgundy Jackson University sweatshirt and jeans, John had on a grey coat and beige pants, and both of them were smiling.

“G’ morning Alex,” George said, walking into the room. Alex returned the smile and noticed that George was carrying two cups of coffee.

“You came back,” Alex whispered, the irrational part of his mind which had told him that they were not going to ever come back being proven wrong.

“Yeah, I said I would,” George said before setting one of the two coffee cups down on the bedside table, “And I come bearing gifts of coffee.”

“For me?” Alex asked, still in shock at the thought of George bringing him coffee. He caught John smiling out of the corner of his eye. 

“No cream no sugar,” George replied before adding, “you know, the doctor said she’d sign your release papers this morning. She also said it's okay if you had the coffee, so drink up.”

Alex chuckled to himself before reaching out for the coffee, not thinking twice about how greedy that made him seem, but just wanting to taste liquid goodness as soon as possible. The first few drops were heavenly and soon Alex couldn’t help but gulp down more.

“You got a lot of reading done,” George said, motioning towards the textbook, still open on Alex’s lap, “it is a fascinating topic?”

“It's really interesting actually. You never really understand just how rich in history this area of the United States is, even while living here. The majority of the people who wrote this stuff, we’re walking in their footsteps,” Alex said, not even caring that he was rambling, he was pretty sure George wanted to hear about his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not American, but for all my Americans out there, Happy Thanksgiving (a little early, I know)!


	37. A note

Alex was surprised when Dr. Schuyler came into his room with his discharge papers. He simply couldn’t believe that she was actually okay with releasing him from the hospital, even if he was going to be coming back for tri-weekly therapy sessions with her.

Still, Alex wasn’t going to complain.

He was getting his first true chance within the foster system and for once, his hospital admission was not resulting in no follow-ups and being bounced to a new home. He wasn’t slipping through the cracks. The grate had caught him and Alex was walking away from the hospital with a new view on life.

“You’re good to go Alex,” George said, walking into Alex’s room holding a rolled-up piece of paper and the pair of pyjamas that he had been wearing the prior night. John had decided to park himself on the chair nearest to Alex's bed and was in the middle of fiddling with the TV remote -which he'd managed to pull out of seemingly nowhere.

“Really?” he replied, slightly skeptical - still - that things were too good to be true.

“Yeah. The nurses said that you should probably get changed out of those scrubs though,” George said, holding out Alex’s pyjamas, “I’m going to need to use the bathroom before we drive home, so you can change and I’ll do that.”

Then, George turned to John and told him to do something. Alex didn't catch any of the sign language, both of their hands moving just a little too fast.

And George and John were gone, having already started to head down the hall. Alex grabbed his pyjamas and quickly - and quite efficiently - changed. He was actually highly skilled at changing while not actively getting naked, one wonderful token of years of having to change for gym class. What a horrible activity. Regardless, it was effective and soon, Alex was changed back into his old sweatpants and tee-shirt.

Sitting on the bed again, Alex pulled out the textbook, deciding to continue to read it while George was temporarily absent. Flipping through the pages to find where he was, Alex caught a little piece of pink paper flutter out from the book and onto the floor. Picking it up as quickly as he could - while not accidentally falling face-first onto the floor, he noticed that it was a sticky note and it had handwriting on it. Unfolding the pink paper and using his pointer finger to shove his glasses further up his nose, Alex turned it right way up and began to read.

_Alex, you’re going to do wonderful things. Don’t ever hesitate to ask for more books, even if George says we have too many._

-_Martha _

Alex didn’t want to tear up again. He really didn’t. But he felt like he was starting to realize what he had been missing since the hurricane. He had had a family - a wonderful, loving family - on the island. And aside from Peter, his mom, Abuela and brother had been the most wonderful people. Then one by one they were taken from him until he had nothing.

The Washingtons were putting him back together. He wished he had seen it sooner. He wished that it hadn’t taken a visit to the hospital to realize that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the chapter on Friday night was so short, here is a second short one to last y'all till next weekend. 
> 
> The tidbit about Alex changing for gym...I am a master at changing without actively 'getting naked.' It's a coordinated event and I think I'd win a gold medal for it in the Olympics.
> 
> On a side note, the Grey Cup was last night and man was it a good game.
> 
> EDIT (11-27-19) fixed the fact that John came to the hospital with George and I just completely forgot about it XD


	38. The wait

“Alright Alex, ready to head back to the house?” George asked, rounding the corner into the room, John trailing just behind him. Alex jumped a little, slamming the textbook closed, encompassing the pink sticky note inside of it.

“Yeah,” Alex replied. As much as he wanted to jump up and run out of the hospital, he knew he couldn’t. Without his crutches or braces, he wouldn’t be able to make it two steps before collapsing. Then the nurses would probably send him back to bed.

“But…,” Alex started, “I can’t...walk.” He hated saying that. He hated that he had to admit it, that he was an almost-sixteen-year-old that couldn’t make it two steps on his own. Sixteen-year-olds were supposed to be able to run and play. It sucked.

“The nurses have a wheelchair. Technically, you do have to leave the hospital in it,” George explained, “they left it in the hallway.” Rounding the corner quickly, George pulled the chair into the room and rolled it towards Alex’s bed.

Swallowing hard, Alex looked at the infernal device. He realized that likely one day he’d be wheelchair-bound. It was inevitable. The amount of internal damage that his legs had suffered, he was simply lucky to still have them attached to his body. But every time Mr. Samuel brought him to a check-up with the orthopedic surgeon, he held his breath for the time that they said that he should consider using a wheelchair instead of his crutches.

They just didn’t get it. None of them did. Well, aside from maybe George. If he resigned himself to the wheelchair, then he was confined. He was trapped. No escape routes. He just couldn’t do that to himself. Not yet.

“Ready to do this kid?” George asked. Alex shook his head to clear it a little and decided that the sooner he manned up, he’d be able to get back to the relative safety of the Washington’s house.

“Yup,” Alex replied. Without the crutches or braces to use to help transfer himself into the wheelchair, he clenched his jaw, locked his knees and quickly took the two steps towards it. He felt his legs give out just as he got above the chair and awkwardly fell into it.

“That was graceful,” Alex heard John say - a little slurred, but clear nonetheless, his voice teasing. Alex turned over his shoulder and smiled at the other teen. At least John had a sense of humour.

* * *

Alex had the pleasure of waiting in the lobby of the hospital with the nurse in the yellow scrubs from earlier while George and John went to go retrieve the van from its parking space.

Peggy. The nurse in yellow’s name was Peggy and she seemed barely old enough to even be a nurse. But she seemed very nice.

“That's a big book you got there,” nurse Peggy said, her voice way too cheery for how early in the morning it was.

“Its a textbook,” Alex replied, not entirely sure how to reply.

“How big of a crater do you think it’d make if we dropped it off the roof of the hospital?” Peggy asked. Alex barked out a laugh. What on earth was she talking about?

“Well, what do you think?” Peggy continued, putting her hands on her hips and looking up towards the ceiling as if she could see through the roofing panels and all the way up to the roof.

“A book-sized one,” Alex replied.

Looking around the lobby, he saw other nurses in various colours of scrubs, doctors in white coats and just plain people, then chuckled to himself as he imagined him and Peggy dropping his textbook off the roof and having it land in front of all the people.

Then he saw him. Well, he saw the back of his head first. But if there was one thing that Alex would recognize from a mile away was slicked-back brown hair. Not many people did that. Then, Alex looked a little lower to the hem of the navy blue shirt he was wearing. Across the bottom, in thick white lettering were the words, “Physiotherapy.” Alex's heart plummeted in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! I decided to expedite my work on this chapter, so y'all could have it on Thanksgiving. Consider this as my way of being thankful to all of you who have been reading, commenting and leaving kudos. While I may rarely reply to comments, I do love each and every one. 
> 
> Enjoy this evening with your families and loved ones. Just remember - you have people who love you. They may not be your blood and bone, but they love you nonetheless. So smile, eat some turkey, stay warm and stay safe.
> 
> Love y'all  
-MRT


	39. The man

When the man in the navy blue shirt turned about ninety degrees, Alex caught a glimpse at the side of his face. Aside from the scruff of a beard left unshaven for a couple days, it was unmistakable as to who that was. Alex legitimately didn’t think that he’d ever have to see Harris again in his life. He’d mostly come to terms with the fact that nothing would ever happen to him, but that they’d simultaneously never have to cross paths again.

“Alex,” Peggy said, but her voice seemed really far away to him, “what’s wrong? Is your head okay?”

“M’fine,” Alex muttered, not able to take his eyes off Harris’s back. He could feel his head pounding and tried to prevent his breathing from ratcheting up to hyperventilation levels.

“You look really pale Alex, are you sure?” Peggy asked again.

“The guy over there,” Alex said, not pointing but motioning in the direction of the man in the navy blue, “what is his name?”

George would believe him. George would do something about it. If he told George his first and last name, they would be able to do something. Alex knew that they would.

“The physiotherapy guy?” Peggy asked.

When Alex nodded, Peggy replied, “Harry Collins, I think. He does most of the adult physio in town.” Alex logged the name in his brain. Not quite the same as ‘Harris’ but chances are, he just took a different version of his legal name - whatever it actually was.

“You know him?” Peggy asked, leaning over and resting her elbows on the arm of Alex’s wheelchair.

“No,” Alex replied. He figured, if Peggy knew that they knew each other, she’d probably call Harris - of whatever the fuck he called himself now - over to have a talk. And that’d just not be good. Really, there was no reason to announce his presence to the entirety of Lexington, though he wondered if his arrival would trickle down the grapevine at some point.

“Just, looked like someone who I thought I knew,” Alex added. Peggy didn’t reply and they sat in silence, Alex looking at Harris’s back. He guessed that he was glad to hear that the man had taken a job in adult physiotherapy and thus wasn’t in direct unsupervised contact with children.

* * *

“You’ve been really quiet, everything okay?” George asked about ten minutes into the ride back to the Washington’s. He hadn’t said more than two or three words, electing to just look out the window and remind himself that Harris was not going to do anything to him.

Not anymore. He was safe now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alex lied.

He felt guilty. Guilty that he’d never advocated for himself, to never get Harris locked up. But who would he have told? The hospital staff in New York seemed unwilling to actually help him and were only covering their own asses. Mr. Samuel barely believed him, as if he somehow believed that Alex had asked to be raped or he was making it up - regardless of what the tests said. He knew his guilt was unfounded, but that didn’t matter, because it was still there.

“Well, Martha and Laf are making something special for supper - I think you’ll like it,” George said, obviously trying to start a conversation which he didn’t want to have.

He wanted to hide in the room he’d been given and not come out. Harris couldn’t get him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone who celebrated it had a wonderful thanksgiving!
> 
> I was originally planning on putting Thursday and today's chapter topics later in the chapter sequence, however, I decided to bump the timing up a little. I'm honestly not entirely sure why, but I was having a hard time getting content out of my brain for anything else, so this happened instead.


	40. The arroz con gandules

After struggling into the house, Alex had excused himself immediately and had gone to lock himself in his bedroom. Not only did he want a change of clothes, his braces and crutches, but he wanted to hide behind a locking door and never come out again. The paranoia was starting to eat at him, even though there was no way that Harris had seen him at the hospital. He knew he was being ridiculous. Or was he? Because it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities for Harris to have recognized him. What other tiny latino kid had such thick glasses and royally fucked up legs in the tri-state-area? Alex would be willing to bet he was the only one.

It hadn’t been long, but soon he heard a knock on the locked door.

“Alex, its suppertime,” the low rumbling voice of George said through the wood. Alex sighed as quietly as he could and reached over for where he had rested his crutches against his bed. Supper would be good. Even though he’d only been at the hospital for two days, he was sick of the tasteless and textureless food that he’d barely managed to choke down and keep down.

Making his way to the door, slowly but surely, Alex unlocked the bolt and cracked it open. George wasn’t standing there and Alex saw his retreating form walking down the hallway back towards the kitchen. He would be fine. It was just dinner. He could do that.

“Hey Alex,” Herc said as Alex entered the kitchen. The three boys were already seated at the table. Martha was over by the stove preparing something in a deep white dish and George was at his place by the coffee maker, leaning against the counter.

“Hi,” Alex said, putting a small smile on his face as he slid into his seat. The way the other three boys were looking at him, made Alex wonder if he had a second head. Though, he bet it was to be expected. Last time Laf and Herc had seen him, he was on his way to the hospital.

“Good to see you Alex,” Martha said, “You’re looking much better.”

“Yeah!” Laf agreed from across the table, “You know what we made for supper?”

“No idea,” Alex replied, though, it almost smelled familiar. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but his nose recognized it.

“Well, I found it in one of mom’s cooking books. Said it was the national dish of Puerto Rico,” Laf began to explain.

“Arroz con gandules?” Alex found himself exclaiming, cutting off Laf. He hadn’t had that in years.

“Do you like that Alex?” Martha asked, moving towards the table, carrying the white dish in her oven-mitt-covered hands.

“It smells delicious,” Alex replied before adding, “thanks for making it, Martha!”

* * *

“So boys, now that it's officially spring break, swimming lessons start,” Martha said once dinner had been dished out onto plates and everyone had begun to dig in.

Alex felt his stomach twist. He still remembered the last time he had gone swimming. It was two days before Hurricane Maria made landfall. He and James had gone down to the beach to body surf in the massive waves just after dinner. The surf was huge and he vaguely remembered the glare on the beach lifeguard’s face as he saw the two of them tearing across the sand towards the water. The next day the rain started, and Alex had already forgotten all his joy about body surfing with James as his older brother got into a yelling match with their mom about getting to higher ground. James left that night after Alex refused to join him. He just couldn’t leave mom and Abuela behind.

He wondered what would have happened if he had left with James. Maybe he would be fine, maybe he would be stuck on the destroyed island, maybe he’d be missing alongside James.

“We didn’t sign you up for any lessons Alex, but if you want to come and just see the pool and play around, then you can decide if you want to join them. Sounds like a good plan?” Martha added. Alex didn’t particularly want to go into the pool, but he was also itching to get back into the water.

Instead of answering verbally, Alex just nodded. He could always say he didn’t want to do the lessons after he saw the water.

“Its a really good program,” Herc said after hastily swallowing down a bite of the mouth-watering arroz con gandules.

“Yeah,” Laf butted in, “the lady that started it is amazing. Plus, it's not ‘normal’ swimming lessons, like, where you’re in a big class.”

“You can come with us tomorrow and see how it goes,” George said, effectively ending the conversation.

Alex wanted to ask George if he could come in the pool with him, but he feared that if he asked, he would seem too needy. If Alex was anything, it was not needy. He could do it on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Yeah, I kinda strayed away from my usual format for the title. The 'working' title was The kitchen, but I didn't think that that really said much about what was actually going to happen in this chapter. 
> 
> 2) And the whole Harris issue is going to sorta be a little bit of an underlying thing for a little while. It's going to 'fester' in Alex's head for much longer than it probably should before he tells Martha and George. However, to prevent content rehash, it'll stay PG 13 and max one paragraph at a time. 
> 
> 3) Yes, hospital food tastes fucking nasty. At least in my experience, it has never been anything but bad. 
> 
> 4) The program that I'm going to be 'copying' for the sake of the boys swimming lessons is from the pool I work at. I'm pretty sure its unique to my place of work, so I'm not gonna say what its really called (incase any coworkers are reading this), but its a really amazing program for kids and teens with special needs.


	41. A discussion

It was about eight in the evening when Alex managed to escape the Washington’s to shower and get to bed. He only upheld half of his statement, but they didn’t need to know that. And besides, it felt good to wash off all the yucky hospital feelings. 

In his new pyjamas - which Martha seemed to have washed while he was gone - Alex sat down at the desk and pulled out his notebook. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to write about, but hopefully, he’d simply manage to tired himself out enough to just fall asleep. 

But his mind kept wandering back to two major themes. Harris and the damn swimming pool tomorrow. He knew he should tell George about Harris. He knew George would listen and believe him. But at the same time - Harris wasn’t actively  _ doing _ anything bad anymore. Or, at least that Alex knew of. Why ruin someone’s life if they had changed?

And the pool. Alex really wanted to go but there was the nagging at the back of his mind that  _ something bad was going to happen. _ He wasn’t sure what, exactly, was going to go wrong, but he was sure that, given enough time, he could create multiple worst-case-scenarios. 

But he didn’t want to have the whole world to see just how broken his body was. The scars on his legs, the caved muscles and the awkward bend of his ankles. The lines on his arms, thin laddered lines and deep carves crossing the ladders. He didn’t want the other Washington boys to see how broken he was, let alone the rest of the people in town. Besides, news of  _ the Latino boy with the messed-up legs _ would then start to circulate the town. Then it would get back to Harris. That couldn’t happen. 

But maybe he could fix one element of his predicament. Rising from the chair and grabbing one of his crutches, Alex slowly made his way to the closet with his flashlight in his mouth. He remembered that they had gotten him a pair of swim trunks on their day at the mall and vaguely remembered getting a long-sleeved shirt that was swimsuit-esk-material. Maybe he could wear that in the pool. That would probably make it a little bit more of a pleasant experience. 

Digging through the closet by the narrow beam of light, Alex managed to pull out the red shirt that he was thinking of. It felt like the right material and maybe if he just brought it along and wore it into the pool, George and Martha wouldn’t say no until it was too late and the shirt was already wet. Good. Problem 1 solved. 

That was when Alex heard three soft knocks on the bedroom door. He felt his heart leap into his throat when he realized that perhaps he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought he was and someone had heard him digging through the closet. 

Moving as silently as possible towards his bed, Alex wondered if he stayed quiet if whoever was out there would form the conclusion that he wasn’t awake and would go away.

“Alex,” a low voice whispered from outside the door, “I can hear you moving.”

George. He’d woken up George. Again. Swallowing, he turned and shuffled to the door.

“I’m sorry that I woke you up,” Alex whispered back through the door once he got close enough, “I’ll go to bed now.”

“You don’t have to if you can’t sleep,” George whispered again, “just try to be a little quieter, okay?”

“Okay George,” Alex whispered back before impulsively asking, “can I ask you a question?” Alex wanted to hit himself. No, George didn’t want to answer a question, he probably just wanted to be left alone and go back to bed. 

“Always Alex,” George replied, “are you going to open the door or do you want to talk through it?” Oh yeah. They were still talking through a thick piece of wood. Reaching down, Alex unlocked the door and twisted the knob open. 

“Hi there Alex,” George said, smiling a little in the darkness. 

“Hi George,” Alex replied before chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“Do you want to go chat in the kitchen?” George asked, “I could do with some tea right about now.”

“Um...sure,” Alex replied, suddenly getting shy, but he saw George’s point. Go somewhere more open, less crowded, less...bedroom-y. 

* * *

In the kitchen, George turned on the kettle and had settled himself at his spot near the coffee machine. Alex sat down at his spot at the table and watched the big man moving around. His muscles in his arms made his tattoos ripple and Alex wished he could look at them in better detail. Because the detail was absolutely incredible. But that was kind of a weird question, so Alex decided to keep his mouth firmly shut. 

“What was your question Alex?” George asked once he poured his boiling water into his Jackson University cup. 

“Um...I was wondering if when we go to the pool tomorrow...if...um...you could...you know...come in the pool too?” Alex said, scowling once he found that he’d managed to stutter and stumble through the majority of his question.

“Of course Alex,” George replied, “I’d love to get into a pool again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) finally tracked down the bootleg of this story and got it deleted - success!
> 
> 2) it is now exam time, so I am signing off until after December 18 (date of my last exam). Good luck with all your exams and I shall see you in a couple of weeks!


	42. The lobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and I'm one semester closer to finishing my degree!

The building - from the outside - was massive. Alex wasn’t sure if the whole building was for the pool or if there was a gym in there somewhere too, but even then, huge. It was like the mall from the other day, but specifically for swimming in.

Inside the building, which smelt like chlorine even in the lobby, they met a lady in the lobby. She had stood up from one of the tables where there were a few other kids and young adults gathered and had made her way over to them.

“Hey boys,” she said with a big smile, her blond ponytail jumping around at the back of her head as if it had a mind of its own.

“Hi Erin,” Herc and Laf said in varying degrees of volume in reply. John said nothing and just looked down at his feet. Out of all of them, he looked like he wanted to go swimming the least. Alex felt bad for him. John really looked truly uncomfortable about the premise of going to the pool.

“Did you bring a friend with you today?” Erin asked and looked around George to where Alex was carefully hiding. He didn’t particularly want to draw attention to himself.

“Alex, this is Erin, the lady that runs the program that the boys take swimming lessons through,” Martha said, turning to Alex and trying to get him to come forward and greet her. Alex didn’t really want to but he did shuffle a little closer.

“He’s just going to go in the pool with George and watch. Maybe next time we’ll enroll him to go swimming with Herc, Laf and John,” Martha continued to explain.

“Well, nice to meet you Alex,” Erin said before motioning over to the table she had stood from, “what to go say hi to the others before we get in? We’re still missing the Bailey twins, then we’ll be good to go.”

Alex didn’t want to go talk to the other kids. He wanted to turn invisible. That would be a really nice superpower right at the moment. But the Washington’s made their way over to the group of other kids and young adults, and in an effort not to lose his shield, Alex stayed close behind George.

“The Washington’s are here,” Erin announced as they got within earshot. The boys dispersed, likely to people they already knew, and Alex stayed behind. He would just be interrupting anyways. This was an outing for Laf, Herc and John. Alex was just extra baggage.

“Where’s Andy?” Erin muttered to herself, looking around. When her wandering eyes stopped on one of the young adult group leaders, Alex looked over too, assuming that that was the aforementioned Andy. He was sitting facing away from the group, navy blue coat hanging off his shoulders and light brown hair shaved close to his scalp.

“Andy!” Erin called and the guy’s head snapped up, turning around to face Erin, her loud chirpy voice cutting through the hum of the lobby. She seemed to have very little volume control. The guy - Andy - stood from where he was sitting and Alex could see why Erin had called him over. Wrapped around his right knee was a shorter black brace - likely to just stabilize the joint, but the left leg was encased from ankle to hip in a blue brace - probably to keep everything more...together. Erin assumed they could bond over their braces. Likely not. Alex didn’t like to be a raging pessimist but sometimes it was difficult, after all the crap he’d been through. He just didn’t like making friends, because there was no way they could understand why, exactly, he behaved the way he did. Easier to just be isolated.

“Hey guys, gals and nonbinary pals,” Andy said as he approached the Washingtons, “good to see y’all again.”

“Nice greeting,” Herc said, “been practicing that one?”

“Hey,” Andy said, throwing his hands up and cracking a big smile, “I’m being inclusive.”

Suddenly, Alex wondered if he’d been accidentally misgendering one of them the entire time. Alex wondered why he’d never been corrected. Maybe one of them wasn’t out yet but Andy knew and was just being nice. Too many different scenarios bounced around in his head completely unanswered. He wondered, suddenly, how the Washington’s were - homophobia and/or transphobia wise. It’d never really crossed his mind, per se, other than the fact that he’d decided he didn’t really want to tell any of them. He really didn’t know these strangers. While it felt like longer, he’d only been with them for five days. Less than a week. He wasn’t going to tell a bunch of random strangers that he was bisexual.

“Crazy braces you got there kid,” the Andy guy said and Alex glared at him. Exactly what he wanted to have pointed out on their very first meeting. Couldn’t he just play it cool?

“Andy, meet Alex,” Erin said quickly, noticing that Alex’s face now looked as if he had eaten a lemon raw, “Alex, meet Andy. Andy is one of our program leaders.”

“Hi,” Alex grumbled. “Good to meet you Alex,” Andy said, his tone of voice softer, “you coming in the pool with us?”

“Gonna go with George,” Alex managed to grunt out to the kid about a foot taller than him and likely seventy-five pounds heavier. He could see the guys muscles under the tight red shirt he was wearing and Alex bet he worked out at the gym a lot.

“Well, if you wanna join in some of our games, we’d love to have another set of hands,” Andy said before turning to the bigger group and saying, “wanna go meet some of the others?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hi! I missed y'all!
> 
> 2) Is Andy a personal insert into the story...perhaps :)
> 
> 3) I have zero idea what the Lexington pool looks like, so I created this one in my head. If you are from Lexington, I am terribly sorry, but Google was being no help in my searches for the pool.


	43. The pool

Everyone went into the universal washroom to change. Well, everyone except for some of the other parents. They followed Martha up to the viewing gallery to watch the pool.

In the changeroom, Alex followed John’s lead - taking his bathing suit and swim shirt out of his bag and heading into one of the stalls to change. The stall wasn’t terribly large, but big enough for Alex to sit down on the bench and maneuver himself into his swim trunks. The trunks were big, maybe a little too big, but honestly, Alex didn’t mind. The lower they hung the more of his legs covered. Before he left the stall, he pulled the red shirt over his head and tucked it into the trunks, snugging the drawstring tight.

Once back in the main area, Alex saw that John and Laf had managed to get themselves changed already and neither boy wearing a shirt. It made him a little self-conscious. But then again, would he more self-conscious if he took the shirt off? Probably.

“You gonna wear your braces in the pool Alex?” a voice from behind him said. Whipping around to face the voice, and almost knocking himself over in the process, he was suddenly face-to-face with a bathing suit-clad Andy. Andy, in blue bathing suit trunks with pineapples all over them, was balancing himself using one of those foldable canes and was not wearing his braces. Looking down his legs, Alex saw lines of scars wrapping around both legs that made him swallow hard. Maybe they were more similar than Alex thought.

“Um...I guess I can’t,” Alex muttered. He hadn’t been swimming since the hurricane and had never once considered it. How would he swim now that his legs were too weak to hold his body weight up and his bulky metal crutches would rust in the water?

“Probably not,” Andy said, his voice turning soft and sympathetic again. Alex hated how he could do that so easily.

“I’m gonna take them off,” Alex said, making his way towards one of the benches and getting to work on unbuckling them. Once all six latches on the left side were unclipped, he slid his leg out and got to work on the other side.

“Those are an old model of braces,” Andy said as if he was trying to start a conversation.

“No shit," Alex snapped, "Ain’t got another pair if that's what you’re asking. Not like there's a ton of medical equipment budget around for foster kids."

“I didn’t mean-,” Andy said before cutting himself off and saying, “You know what Alex, can we just start over again? I feel like we really got off to a bad start.”

Alex bet he was looking at Andy like he had grown a second head. What on earth did Andy see in him? Why was he trying so hard to make friends with him? He was just a broken kid from Puerto Rico. It was obvious that Andy had gone through some stuff, but he was healed. He probably had a girlfriend, a loving family and was probably doing well in school. Maybe that was a little judgemental, but it felt true. But, maybe he could give it a chance. _What was the worst that could happen?_

“Okay,” Alex said, wedging his leg out of his other brace. He stood up and extended the hand not holding onto his crutch for dear life towards Andy and said, “Hi, I’m Alex. It's nice to meet you.”

“Hi Alex,” Andy said, a smile crossing his face, “I’m Andy. It's lovely to meet you too.”

* * *

The pool was surprisingly warm. Not tropical, not hot, but a very nice temperature. Herc, Laf and John had followed Andy, Erin and the other leaders over to the lane pool where they were going to have a lesson before getting some goof-off time.

“You good at swimming Alex?” George asked as they headed towards the smaller ‘training pool.’ It appeared slightly shallower and wasn’t really meant for swimming laps, just having fun.

“I was,” Alex said, looking around the area. He bet he could stand up comfortably in the training pool.

“Before the hurricane, yeah?” George asked, looking at Alex. He nodded in response. It was like saying it out loud made it true.

“Can I make you a promise Alex?” George asked, the two of them still standing and looking at the pool.

Once again, Alex just nodded.

“If you need help, I will pull you up, okay? I know you probably don’t like the idea of that, but if I’m right, I think that’d probably be better than a lifeguard doing it,” George said. His face looked concerned and Alex didn’t blame him. If he was in George’s position, he’d probably be a little scared too.

The water felt heavenly. Alex forgot how much he missed the feeling of his clothes slowly soaking through as he lowered himself into it. How much he liked the feeling of dunking his whole body under and just...sitting there, not sinking, not floating and just enjoying the feeling of weightlessness and peace. As he closed his eyes and let his head go under, Alex realized just how much he had missed the water. Of course, the pool wasn’t the same as the ocean, but it was pretty darn close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays y'all! If you haven't yet, go check out the holiday story with the Washington's!


	44. A migraine

Alex woke up the next morning and for the first time in quite a while, his legs were _not_ in excruciating pain. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time that he woke up and didn’t feel like he _needed_ to have pain meds _right now or else_. Maybe it was because of the pool, or maybe it was that he was actually just treating his body right. Maybe both.

He could hear movement in the kitchen and figured it was George making coffee, so he decided to get out of bed. Grabbing his glasses from the night table and his crutches from where they had been laid down beside his bed the night previous, Alex made his way towards the door, pulling on the waistband of his sleep pants. He’d need to start wearing a belt with them if the Washington’s decided that they were going to keep having pyjama days.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Alex saw John sitting at the kitchen table, glasses folded in front of him, arms crossed and head laid down onto them. He looked like he was in pain. George was standing over by the oven, the medicine cabinet opened above his head, and had his back to the boys. He seemed to be reading the back of one of the bottles in his hand.

“Morning,” Alex whispered into the silence of the kitchen. John didn’t move from his folded-in position on the table, but George whipped his head around to look back at Alex, the orange pill bottle still in his hand.

“Hey Alex,” George said, “could you come here and read something for me? I don’t know where I put my reading glasses.”

“Sure,” Alex replied, moving towards the bigger man who was bundled into his usual orange housecoat, plaid pyjama pants and slippers.

George passed the pill bottle over to Alex and said, “I’m looking for where the maximum dose is, I can’t see it.”

_John Laurens Washington _

_Replax - 35 mg tablets _

_Maximum 3-4 tablets daily, abortive migraine medication _

“Looks like one every three to four hours George,” Alex replied. George huffed in response and walked towards John, tapping the curly-haired-boys shoulder. When John looked up, his curled hair not tied up in its usual ponytail flopping over his face, his face was red and his eyes were puffy, like he’d been crying.

George said something in ASL to John who proceeded to turn his face back into his arm pile with a grunt. Likely had just been told that he wasn’t allowed to have any more Replax for a few hours.

He’d - knock on wood - never had a migraine before, but knowing what little he did about John’s condition, Alex figured that the headaches, the glasses and the headphones all stemmed from the same event. Or a series of similar compounded events. Though, Alex had long ago decided not to ask the guys about their disabilities because, lets face it, Alex wouldn’t like if they asked him about his. He’d just have to rely on what little information he’d gathered and would continue to gather.

George said something else to John, who did not reply but did pick himself up off the table and begin to shuffle towards the hallway of bedrooms.

“I’ll be back Alex,” George said, following John down the hall.

Alex huffed to himself and looked around the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee brewing on the counter which looked awfully appealing and the daily news on the table. Thankfully, the coffee, upon examination, was still warm and there was a clean mug in the cupboard above the device. He wouldn’t have to go looking too far for what he needed and that was good.

Sitting at his spot at the table, Alex busied himself looking through the newspaper and trying to catch up in current events. He was so behind with the world as he’d been mostly isolated from it for the five days he had been with the Washington’s followed by the time in his previous home without access to the paper.

“See anything good Alex?” George asked, plopping himself down into a chair with a mug of coffee himself.

“Nothing ‘good’,” Alex replied, raising his head from the paper and asking, “is John okay?”

“Gets bad migraines. Seems like this one started last night. Martha gave him some Replax a couple hours ago but he can’t have any more for a while so I sent him back to bed,” George explained, “should be good as gold in a few more hours.”

“M’kay,” Alex muttered, looking back down at the paper.

“You thought any more about going back to school?” George asked.

“Not really,” Alex replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back to school, but it simply hadn’t crossed his mind. There’d been too many other ideas bouncing around on the inside of his head the past few days that he’d forgotten the conversation they’d had in George’s office. That seemed like a lifetime ago already.

“Well, Martha mentioned to me that she wants to take you to get registered tomorrow, so I thought I’d let you know so you can think on it a little,” George said, “but really, it's nothing special, you’ll just be joining the boys at the local public school. Rock Bridge County High School.”

“Sounds exciting,” Alex muttered sarcastically. He hated public schools, though, he figured that regardless of where he went to school, he’d be picked on.

“You’re going to school Alex, just so you know,” George said sternly, “we’re not going to let that big brain of yours go to waste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Exciting news - all the chapters from now till the end of the story are planned out! Including this week's chapter, there will be 9 more (give or take 1 or 2 - depending on how everything shapes out). I decided that the whole "Harris issue" would go in a second part to this story, as well as Alex going back to school and the development of some real Lams. 
> 
> 2) Replax - I don't take it nor do I have any meds for migraines. If any of y'all do take meds for migraines and I'm horribly wrong, please correct me and I'll fix it. 
> 
> 3) Rock Bridge County High School is the only high school in the Lexington VA area that Google Maps shows, so that's what I'm using. Descriptions and interiors will reflect my high school, though. Apologies to any real Rock Bridge County students that may be out there.


	45. Another movie

“So,” Laf said just as they were finishing supper, “What other movies have you missed mon ami?”

“Uhhh,” Alex said, wracking his brain for a title of any movie to give Laf an answer of some type. He honestly couldn’t think of a single movie title that he’d seen on his travels that stood out to him that he wanted to see. The only thing that came to mind was to finish watching the Lord of the Rings, which they had started watching the afternoon before he ended up at the hospital.

“Are there more Lord of the Rings?” Alex asked. He remembered that Herc had mentioned at some point that there were more than one of those movies kicking around and that it was an entire trilogy. Hopefully, the one that they had watched earlier wasn’t the last one.

“There's a ton more LOTR,” Herc announced, looking suddenly extremely excited that Alex had suggested the movies.

Laf signed something to John and the curly-haired boy, who had since recovered from his crippling migraine that morning, popped his head up and smiled at Alex. So Lord of the Rings was a family favourite it seemed. Alex had guessed right.

“Okay, so, the movie that you saw the other day was The Two Towers,” Herc said so animatedly that he almost knocked over his partially consumed glass of milk, “Which is the second movie in the original series. But now there’s a prequel series which is also three movies.”

“We should start at the beginning,” John said, his voice a little nasal but no less clear than any of the other boys. Alex briefly wondered if John did speech therapy to be able to keep his talking abilities in shape.

“Okay,” Alex replied. He really didn’t have the same kind of in-depth knowledge of this series as these guys, and if John had used his voice to suggest something instead of just getting Herc or Laf to translate, that meant that he must seriously want Alex to consider his opinion. And hey, no harm with starting at the beginning, right?

“Mom,” Laf shouted, turning around in his seat to face where Martha was standing at the sink, loading the dishwasher, “can we start watching the movie?”

“Did you clean your plate?” Martha replied, obviously able to see that there was still a significant amount of food on the plate in front of Laf. Alex had polished off his meal in seconds flat, followed closely by Herc and John a little slower. It really looked like Laf had barely even picked at it. Suddenly Alex was hit with a wave of so that's why Laf is so thin and the realizations that came along with it.

“No,” Laf grumbled, “But Mom, I’m not hungry.”

“Gilbert Lafayette Washington you are a growing fifteen-year-old and you’re _not_ allowed to just _not eat_,” George said, speaking up for one of the first times all dinner, from his place over by the coffee machine. He didn't seem to be in the greatest mood on the planet and Alex swallowed. _Was this how George acted most of the time?_

“George,” Martha hissed in the direction of her husband before grabbing a plastic tray from the clean rack near the sink and making her way over to the table. At the table, she took Laf’s butter knife and used it to scrape exactly half of all the things on his plate into the tray.

“Eat half now, and in an hour, you can come back and eat the other half, okay?” Martha said, “the boys will wait for you to finish okay? You’re not going to miss any of the movie.”

“Fine,” Laf grumbled, slumping his head sideways and putting it in his hand. Alex watched as Laf slowly ate the rest of his chicken, followed by the bean casserole and lastly the mashed potatoes and wondered how long Laf had managed to go without eating properly before the Washington’s caught onto what he was doing.

Alex had done an experiment at one of the group homes he’d lived at once, where he purposely didn’t eat anything in the visual presence of the husband and wife who ran it, just to see if they’d ever catch on. Alex had managed to punch seven holes through their walls and be removed by Mr. Samuel before they noticed his experiment.

Though come to think of it, Alex hadn’t really felt any outwards rage the entire five days he’d been with the Washington’s. Sure there’d been a few small annoyances, but he’d managed to keep the thoughts from escalating to anger or a full-blown rage fit.

“I’m done mom,” Laf finally reported after close to fifteen minutes of slowly getting through what had been left in front of him.

“Good work darling,” Martha said, pressing a kiss to the top of Laf’s head and adding with a smile, “go watch your movie boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I even start talking about this, has anyone seen the new Star Wars movie?! Not gonna spoil anything, but did anyone else catch the Lin-Manuel Miranda cameo? I punched my brother in the movie theatre today when I saw him (yes, I got a little excited).
> 
> Anyways, back to this story...  
1) Hobbit and Lord of the Rings are excellent bonding movies because they're so long and there are so many of them  
2) George has anger issues, but he has it under control. He's just frustrated with Laf. I'm assuming that all three boys (and soon to be Alex as well) go to therapy, and so Laf's ED is being worked on as well.  
3) yes I do have a plan for where this story is going and how it's going to end, I promise. 7 or 8 more chapters left :)


	46. The first day of therapy

“Today is your first day of therapy with Dr. Schuyler,” George said once Alex had poured himself a cup of coffee and had sat down at the kitchen table with the paper. It had almost become a routine at this point, their unspoken agreement on how to work around the mornings. Alex wondered how drastically it would change come going back to school. He decided that he didn’t want to think about that quite yet.

“Not saying anything will not help,” George said, pushing himself off from his perch by the coffee machine and moving towards the table. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the back of one of the chairs.

“You do realize that in order to start recovering and healing you need real, professional help Alex,” George said, looking him in the eye. Alex shirked a little. He knew George was right, but that didn’t mean that he liked the thought. He simply didn’t want to tell some lady he’d never really met, who thought he was actively suicidal, about his life as she tried to fix him.

“I went to a ton of doctors when I got back from Afghanistan,” George said, “I’ve been talking with one for fifteen years Alex.”

“So?” Alex said, trying very hard not to be too snotty. He didn’t want George to be mad, he just did not want to go talk to Dr. Schyuler.

“You won’t magically get better overnight,” George said before adding, “Alex, Martha and I don’t think that your so-called coping strategies are working and that you need help.”

* * *

He didn’t know the answers to half the questions the piece of paper clipped to the board that the nurse had given him asked. And was the issue, who would know these answers? The people who would know were dead. _Any family members diagnosed with mental health conditions? _ Alex couldn’t just ask Martha, because she wouldn’t know. He couldn’t phone Mr. Samuel because he never met Alex’s family. As far as his memory served, they all seemed normal to him. But, to a twelve-year-old, everything would have seemed normal because he knew nothing else.

As he handed the sheet, less than half-filled out, back to the nurse at the desk, she looked at him with a huff and asked, “Do you not know the answers to any of these questions?”

“I’ve been in foster care since I was fourteen,” Alex snapped, “and the rest of my biological family is dead. I can’t just go and ask them, can I?”

“Alex,” Martha said, not yelling, but not quietly, from where she was sitting on the couch, reading her book. He didn’t think she was listening. Looking from the nurse to Martha and back to the nurse, he saw two rather stunning looks. Like they both couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“It's true,” Alex said, sliding the paper to the nurse before turning and heading back towards Martha and the book he’d brought with him.

It was only an hour that he’d have to talk to Dr. Schuyler for. He could do an hour. He really couldn’t do an hour.

He’d been sitting across from Dr. Schuyler for a grand total of a minute and twenty-three seconds when she finally asked, “Why do you think that you’re here Alexander?”

A dozen answers were on the tip of his tongue and none of them were particularly nice. Alex just decided to shrug instead. He figured that this was just like the hospital. Give her the answers she wants to hear, she’ll be convinced that he’s fine, and no more therapy needed.

“I know you have at least one answer to the question,” Dr. Schuyler replied.

“Because agreeing to be here was the only thing that got me released from the hospital,” Alex replied. That was probably the least rude comment he had stored away.

“Speaking of which, how have the past two days been?” she asked and out came that dreaded clipboard. She was going to write everything down. Anything he said would be compiled for future use.

“Fine,” Alex replied. They really had been a solid "_fine_". Not bad, not good, just...fine.

“Fine?” Dr. Schuyler parroted as if she was trying to get him to elaborate.

Alex said nothing in response.

“Did you do anything with the Washington’s that was fun?”

Silence again. Alex didn’t want to tell her about going to the pool because that felt like something private. Something he wanted to keep to himself. He realized that that wasn’t the purpose of going to therapy, but going to the pool again, it was like he’d found a little piece of himself that he’d lost and never thought he’d get back. That wasn’t something he wanted to share just yet.

“Is there anything you want to talk about then Alexander?”

Alex closed his eyes and pressed his lips shut. _Sorry George_, he thought, _I really can’t do this. I locked away all these thoughts and memories for a good reason. I’m coping perfectly fine. I don’t need to be here._


	47. The school

“So how do you like Dr. Schuyler, she’s pretty nice, isn’t she?” Martha asked as they climbed into her SUV. Alex realized that she was just trying to make small talk, but that didn’t really matter. He didn’t want to talk. He’d done enough not-talking in therapy to want to deal with trying to not-answer Martha’s questions.

“She’s fine,” Alex replied. Which started Martha onto a rant about the healthcare system, letting Alex zone out and stare out the window.

How did he get himself into this mess? Maybe if he acted up more, they’d have sent him back with Mr. Samuel and he wouldn’t have to be doing therapy. This was not his plan. Now that he had real attention, he just wanted to be ignored. He wanted to go back to a group home where he was allowed to get any with almost anything and was never noticed. Receiving attention was not his strong suit and that often made him want to say things that would just end up getting him more attention. Now they were going to get him signed up to go to school.

Alex understood why he had to go to school, but after not going for so long and simply teaching himself based on what he could find in the books, he bet he’d fit out like a sore thumb. Not to mention that bullies loved picking on people who were different. And Alex was different, there was no question about that. He didn’t want to go back to school.

“We’re going to go talk to the principal to get you registered and then we’ll go home,” Martha reported.

Alex sighed.

“I know you don’t want to do this Alex, but you won’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. They only need to see you,” Martha reported as they pulled into a parking lot, which Alex assumed was the one that belonged to the school. Though, based on some of the other schools Alex had been to during his time on the mainland, this one wasn’t actually all that huge. Sure, it was bigger than his school on the island, but basically everything was.

Rockbridge County High School. The name made the school sound ominous. Logically, Alex understood that Lexington was not a very large town and that the school serviced surrounding towns as well, but for some reason, adding “County” into the name made it sound bigger. Which made no sense, but that was what Alex’s brain was supplying.

“You’ll probably never go through the front doors with the boys,” Martha began to explain, “George usually drops them off at the back doors. But, the office is closer to the front doors.”

Martha didn’t have to say it, but Alex knew what she was implying. That they were going through the front because it would be a shorter walk. A walk that was easier for Alex. And that was where Martha and George were so different. Martha seemed to want to ‘baby’ all the boys. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing. But George just treated them like they were all ‘normal.’ Sure, if they were actually all ‘normal,’ then he’d probably treat them a little different anyway, but he never felt coddled around George. That was all he felt around Martha.

“Ready Alex?” Martha said, and that was when Alex realized he’d zoned out and they were inside the school and she’d already been talking to the receptionist. Awesome. Great first impression.

“Sure,” Alex managed to get out.

“Mrs. Washington, good to see you again,” a big booming voice said, accompanying head poking out of an office door and looked down the hall at them. Stepping out from the wall, the man, who Alex was guessing was the principal, started towards them.

“Dr. Finlay, always a pleasure,” Martha replied, reaching out to shake the massive man’s hand. He was bigger than George. They were probably the same height but this man absolutely filled the doorway. Alex wouldn’t be surprised if he either coached football or played it at some point.

“So I hear that you and George have added another to your ranks,” Dr. Finlay said, looking around Martha slightly to where Alex had been inadvertently hiding.

“What’s your name man?” Dr. Finlay asked, sticking his hand out, obviously expecting a handshake.

Sure, Alex could let go of one of his crutches, let it hang off his arm and return the handshake, but he really didn’t want to. Instead, he looked at the principal’s hand, down at his legs, then back at the principal. Thankfully, Dr. Finlay dropped his hand.

“Alexander Hamilton,” Alex replied.

“We’re looking into getting him registered to join this school year,” Martha said.

“There are only three more months left before exams,” Dr. Finlay said, just a slight note of incredulity in his voice. As if he couldn’t understand registering him with only three months left.

“Alex hasn’t been in school since November and even if he doesn’t complete the content by the finals, we just want him to be learning again,” Martha replied.

“I’ll be able to finish it,” Alex muttered, not even consciously deciding to comment out loud.

“You sound very certain about that young man,” Dr. Finlay said.

“Yes I am and I am going to graduate in time too,” Alex replied, sticking his chin out and raising his voice a little. Still not loud enough to be considered a normal talking volume, but loud enough to sound confident.

“Well,” Dr. Finlay said, standing up straight again, “why don’t we go back to my office and get you enrolled?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, a couple more chapters - hopefully, which will get done sooner than later - because I'm back to school and I have 4 writing courses this semester. Don't wanna give myself writer's block when I need it for school work. 
> 
> I wanted to give the principal a Hamilton name, but I couldn't find one that I wanted to use so I decided to use the last name of my old principal because I'm lazy


	48. The fight

Alex was angry. He didn’t know exactly why he was so mad, but he knew that he hadn’t woken up in such a bad mood in a while. It was definitely one of those moods where no matter what you did, it just stuck with you all day. Fully tempted to stay in his room to prevent Martha and George from bearing the brunt of his temper, he didn’t head down to the kitchen for coffee when he woke up, even though he could smell it.

After an hour of pointedly not leaving his room, not even for a bathroom break, Alex was starting to think that he was just being ridiculous. There was really no reason that he had to be feeling this angry, and therefore, there was no reason for him to not go to the kitchen and get coffee because he wasn’t going to snap at any of them. Which Alex simply knew wasn’t true. He’d already punched himself in the leg while trying to struggle into his braces. The clasp wasn’t closing due to the fabric of his pyjamas getting caught in it. But, of course, instead of just removing the fabric from the clasp, he’d taken a swing at the clasp to try to wedge it shut. It worked, but now Alex didn’t know if he’d be able to get it open again. At least the pain of metal against flesh and bone hurt just enough to ground Alex and to prevent him from screaming in frustration.

Sitting on the bed for a few more minutes and just stewing in frustration alerted Alex to the fact that he really had to use the washroom. Yeah, his self-imposed cone of not talking to other people was going to be overwhelmed by the urge to relieve himself. Standing up and grabbing his crutches, Alex made his way towards the door.

Opening it suddenly put himself face to face with Laf. The younger yet taller teen was standing directly outside his door, hair tied back into its poof and a stupid smile on his face. Damn Laf and his stupid giddy smile.

“Morning petit lion!” Laf shouted cheerfully, “you’re up late!”

“Yeah,” Alex grunted, trying to push his way past Laf before his bladder or mouth exploded.

“Sleep well?” Laf chirped, letting Alex pass.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Alex snapped before he realized what he said. Then he made his way towards the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving Laf standing where he was in speechless silence.

Sitting down on the toilet, Alex pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. _Calm down Alex, there is nothing wrong._ He didn’t know why he lashed out at Laf so suddenly. Maybe it was his ever-cheerful attitude or the fact that he always called him “little lion” in French. Regardless, he’d yelled. He’d said he didn’t want to yell.

“Alex, are you okay?” he heard George’s voice ask through the bathroom door.

“Leave me alone,” Alex replied through his hands that were covering his face. The last person he wanted to talk to was George. Because he knew that George wouldn’t let him get away with this. Because he knew George could see through all his lies and bullshit.

“Okay,” George replied, “Well, Laf and I will be waiting in the movie room when you’re ready to apologize for speaking to Laf how you did.”

* * *

Alex quietly unlocked the bathroom door three hours later when the rumbling of his stomach was too much to ignore. He’d missed breakfast, had no coffee and was running the risk of missing lunch if he didn’t get his act in gear. But, eating meant going to the kitchen and that meant talking to people and apologizing to Laf. Which he simply wasn’t ready to do. So he snuck across the hall to his room, locked that door and collapsed on his bed.

* * *

The sun had been down for hours before Alex snuck out of his room the next time. He’d missed all three meals that day, even though Martha had tried to offer him some every single time the rest of the guys ate as a family. Alex declined every time. He wasn’t hungry. Which was a lie, but Alex wasn’t going to admit that.

Creeping down the quiet hallway of the house, Alex emerged into the kitchen to see George sitting at his spot at the table. In front of him was a paper folder, stuffed to the brim with papers, note sheets and a couple of pictures._ His foster care file._ Turning to head back to his room, the floor creaked under Alex’s foot.

“I know you’re there Alex,” George said, “come eat something please.”

Alex said nothing but did walk over to his spot at the table where there was a plate of food sitting there.

“You can heat it up if you want,” George said, not raising his head from what he was reading.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied, sliding onto his seat and starting to eat cold mashed potatoes, pulled pork and string beans. It tasted nasty, but he didn’t want to let George know that he was right, so Alex closed his eyes and stomached it. At this point, food was food.

“Why do you fight people Alex?” George asked after they sat in silence for enough time.

“I dunno,” Alex muttered.

“Because Mr. Samuel passed over some more information this afternoon,” George started to explain, “every single time you’ve started bonding with a family or looking like you were going to make it last, you lash out. Why?”

“You’re not Dr. Schyuler,” Alex muttered, “Why do you care?”

“Because we’re not giving up Alex. I want to know what I’m looking at here,” George said, “How can a teen go from perfectly fine to angry with no prompting?”

“I said, I don’t know,” Alex replied, and that was the truth.

“So, maybe tomorrow when you go talk to Dr. Schyuler, you actually talk this time?” George suggested.

Alex nodded into his plate of food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some good old-fashioned Washing-dad!


	49. A good brother

_He was right there. Standing at the foot of the exam table. He was smiling. He always smiled. Why did he always smile? Reaching out, Alex felt two cold hands against his ankles. It's a dream. You know it’s a dream. You can wake up whenever you want._

Alex woke up in a cold sweat, tangled in blankets and trapped in his bed by his own doing. Chest heaving, Alex tried to sit as still as possible to listen for any sounds of movement in the house. He could not hear much over the pounding of his heartbeat through his ears. He wouldn’t be getting back to sleep tonight, that was a non-negotiable fact. There was something about a nightmare like that, that made Alex feel unsafe in his own skin, unsafe in his bed. He needed to get up and move. It was possible that the couch would allow him to doze off a little, but it was no guarantee.

Untangling his legs from the blankets he’d trapped himself in, Alex rolled out of bed and grabbed his crutches from where they were leaning against the bedside table. It had been over a week he’d been with the Washington’s now and he knew how to make his way down the hall from his room to the kitchen without making much noise. Walking in the middle of the hall made the floor creak, but if he could place his feet or his crutches on either side of the middle, the floor would stay quiet.

The kitchen was quiet and empty, though Alex did notice that the microwave door was open - giving off an eerie yellow light into the darkness of the rest of the kitchen. He knew in the back of his mind that George would never have left the door open all night, and he was always the last one to use the microwave for a cup of tea at night. Someone else was awake.

Continuing through the kitchen to the movie room, with the comfortable couch, Alex saw John sitting on the floor, looking out of the bank of windows that usually had a set of black-out curtains drawn in front of them. He never realized that the window was so big before. It seemed like a waste to him, to cover it with blackout curtains, but hey, this was their house, they could do whatever they want to it.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to approach someone who was deaf when they couldn’t see him so Alex just kept walking towards John, hoping that by the time he crossed the room, John would turn around. Maybe it was the movement in the floorboards under Alex’s heavy footfalls into the room or him tripping into the arm of the couch that altered John to his presence, but he long-haired boy whipped his head around to look at Alex. In the light of the window, Alex could see the dampness on John’s cheeks as if he’d been crying. Alex felt his heart constrict for the deaf boy sitting on the ground in front of him.

“Can I sit down?” Alex asked, trying to enunciate as best as he could, hoping that his lack of sign language skills would not be a complete hindrance.

“I can’t hear you, Alex,” John said softly and with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered, starting to feel even worse about the fact that he had yet to even start learning sign language. He knew he needed to learn, but he’d been more focused on other things and it’d just fallen off of his radar. But, Alex knew the sign language alphabet. Or, most of it at least.

“A-r-e y-o-u o-k-a-y?” Alex slowly spelled, sitting down on the couch so he could free his arms and hands. It was slow and time-consuming, partially because Alex’s hands had surprisingly poor dexterity and partially because he was trying to remember how to form the letters. It was worth the effort to see John crack a grin.

“Just nervous for school tomorrow,” John replied, speaking and signing at the same time. Alex tried to remember each of the signs as he made them. He would go looking through the sign language book in more depth on the ride to school tomorrow.

“W-h-y?” Alex asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing the topic too much.

“There are some guys at school,” John muttered, “they aren’t very nice.”

Alex huffed in response. There were mean people everywhere. He bet that they’d pick on Alex right alongside John tomorrow.

“James and Tom,” John continued, “watch out from the two of them. They’ll gang up on you in no time. And Aaron, he thinks he’s so smart, but in reality, he just has no self-esteem and makes up for it by making up facts.”

“I-l-l w-a-t-c-h o-u-t f-o-r t-h-e-m,” Alex replied, committing the three names to memory.

“Avoid them,” John suggested, “Just...steer clear.”

“O-k,” Alex replied again, thinking it through. Maybe he could take this Aaron character down a few notches. Teach him some real facts. Obliterate him with knowledge.

“I know that look,” John said with a huff, “you’re planning on squaring up with them?”

“N-o,” Alex lied, “o-n-l-y i-f t-h-e-y m-e-s-s w-i-t-h y-o-u.”

“I don’t need protection,” John said.

“Y-o-u-r-e u-p-s-e-t,” Alex reasoned, “t-h-e-y-v-e g-o-t-t-e-n t-o y-o-u.”

“Perhaps,” John replied, “but this isn’t your fight.”

Like hell, it wasn’t his fight. Alex had only known these guys for just over a week, and yet, he knew that he would be willing to protect any of them, mentally or physically. Tomorrow, he was going to prove that he could be a good brother to all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, I'm so excited! This has by far been the longest and most viewed story I've ever posted and I've loved taking this journey all the way to this point with everyone! 
> 
> 1) the comment about Alex's dexterity or lack thereof in his hands is what can happen when using crutches. The constant gripping really messes with the muscles
> 
> 2) enter Jefferson, Madison and Burr (only in mention, of course). They'll play a bigger part in the sequel when Alex actually goes to school
> 
> 3) same with Lams. I'm actually very sorry that this story never really got into any true Lams, but I promise the next one will


	50. A smile

There was something about smiles, Alex realized, was that they were supposed to instill confidence or trust in whomever you were speaking to. He’d never liked smiles. His own, or anyone else’s. You never knew what someone was thinking because a smile could be faked so easily.

He’d learned after his father left that smiles were never real. Mama or Abuela would smile, but Alex always thought that it was in consolation or in an effort to convince him or themselves that everything was alright even when it really wasn’t. James stopped smiling after their father left, he was never happy anymore. The last time he saw his brother smile was the night before the hurricane started when they body surfed down on the beach. Then they’d walked home and Abuela was already asleep. Mama had smiled at them when they returned and their lives were turned upside down the next day. 

Mr. Samuel’s smile was sly. Like he was in constant disapproval of what you did or just told him. He smiled when Alex did something wrong and made no indication of approval when Alex did something correct. It was unnerving for the first little while, but Alex got used to it fast. He had to spend so much time with him anyway.

Harris smiled to trick Alex into feeling safe. It had worked for a while and Alex was ashamed of that. That it even worked in the first place. His smile was burned into Alex’s mind and whenever he remembered or had nightmares about the man, it was always there. Alex did not like it when people smiled at him after that.

Then he met the Washington’s. Martha’s smile was comforting, like a strange combination between mama and Abuela’s smiles. Like she wanted to protect you and show that she cared for you, all wrapped up into one facial expression. From the smile she gave him on their first day in the kitchen when Alex ate her cookies to the expression she gave him when he loaded his empty plate into the dishwasher last night.

Laf’s smile seemed to completely encompass all of his ‘crazy.’ It was like you could see his entire personality laid out across his wide, toothy grin. And, if you couldn’t see his teeth, the smile wasn’t genuine. He was easy to read and carried his emotions on his face, which was one thing Alex had started to appreciate about Laf. You always knew what he was feeling.

Herc rarely smiled, just grinned. But it was genuine regardless. He hid many more thoughts and feelings than he shared, and Alex understood that. He guarded himself. Maybe with time and getting to know him a little better, Alex would get to see through some of those layers. Become more like family.

John’s smile was electric. It lit up his whole face, on the rare occasions that Alex actually got to see it. He seemed to have a weird sense of humour, or maybe just missed aspects of conversation, but Alex liked trying to make John smile or laugh. When he laughed, Alex got a glimpse into what his voice actually sounded like without the underlying fear that the noise wasn’t coming across correctly.

George’s smile reminded him of his father’s smile, before he left them. Warm, comforting, happy. Alex knew George hid hurts under years of therapy, they all did. George's smile proved to Alex that he could heal.

Life can get better. Alex believed that now. He believed that, with the Washington’s, life would get better and he would be able to heal. They all would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, here is the last real chapter of this story (I am going to make another story to include all the outtakes that never ended up in this story - that was what the 51st chapter was going to be). I don't even know where to start with this. I am getting so emotional writing this. 
> 
> This started as a therapeutic project. It was just supposed to be something to help deal with my past and get it onto paper so that thoughts and emotions that I have no idea how to express out loud could get shared. Then it turned into so much more when I realized that there was no way on earth that I was alone feeling this way and going through all these things. So I decided to post it here and just see what happened. 
> 
> All of your replies, comments, kudos and hits mean so much to me and I hope that I was able to reach out to at least one person and let them know that they are not alone. Because you never are, even if you think that might be true. 
> 
> So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for being here, making it to this point and reading this at all. 
> 
> Stay safe everyone  
-MRT <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another foster care au that no one asked for. Started writing it as a one shot and it ended up getting a little out of hand, so here it is!


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